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Past, Present, and Future 

4 Jubilarian's Reflections on Jesuit Spirituality 

William A. Barry, S J. 

32/4 • SEPTEMBER 2000 


The Seminar is composed of a number of Jesuits appointed from their provinces in 
the United States. 

It concerns itself with topics pertaining to the spiritual doctrine and prac- 
tice of Jesuits, especially United States Jesuits, and communicates the results to the 
members of the provinces through its publication, STUDIES IN THE SPIRITUALITY OF 
JESUITS. This is done in the spirit of Vatican Li's recommendation that religious 
institutes recapture the original inspiration of their founders and adapt it to the 
circumstances of modern times. The Seminar welcomes reactions or comments in 
regard to the material that it publishes. 

The Seminar focuses its direct attention on the life and work of the Jesuits 
of the United States. The issues treated may be common also to Jesuits of other 
regions, to other priests, religious, and laity, to both men and women. Hence, the 
journal, while meant especially for American Jesuits, is not exclusively for them. 
Others who may find it helpful are cordially welcome to make use of it. 


William A. Barry, S.J., directs the tertianship program and is a writer at Cam- 
pion Renewal Center, Weston, MA (1999). 

Richard A. Blake, S.J., teaches film studies at Boston College, Chestnut Hill, 
MA (1998). 

Philip J. Chmielewski, S.J., teaches religious social ethics at Loyola University, 
Chicagp, IL (1998). 

Richard J. Hauser, S.J., teaches theology and directs the graduate programs in 
theology, ministry, and spirituality at Creighton University, Omaha, NE 

James F. Keenan, S.J., teaches moral theology at Weston Jesuit School of Theol- 
ogy, Cambridge, MA (2000). 

Thomas M. Lucas, S.J., chairs the Department of Fine and Performing Arts and 
teaches therein at the University of San Francisco, CA (1998). 

Douglas W. Marcouiller, S.J., teaches economics at Boston College, Chestnut 
Hill, MA (2000). 

Thomas P. O'Malley, S.J., is associate dean of arts and sciences and teaches in 
the honors program at Boston College, Chestnut Hill, MA (2000). 

John W Padberg, S.J., is chairman of the Seminar, editor of STUDIES, and direc- 
tor and editor at the Institute of Jesuit Sources (1986). 

William R. Rehg, S.J., teaches philosophy at St. Louis University, St. Louis, 
MO (2000). 

The opinions expressed in STUDIES are those of the individual authors thereof. 
Parentheses designate year of entry as a Seminar member. 

Copyright © 2000 and published by the Seminar on Jesuit Spirituality 
3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108 
(Tel. 314-977-7257; Fax 314-977-7263) 

Past, Present, and Future 

A Jubilarian's Reflections 
on Jesuit Spirituality 

William A. Barry, S.J. 


32/4 • SEPTEMBER 2000 

/; . :: ::;::;&^ 

** %. 


Marian Cowan, C.S.J., and 
John Carroll Futrell, S.J. 

translators that both critiques de Nobili's approach and 
appreciates his greatness. 

Paper ISBN 1-880810-37-9 

f| pp. xxii + 345: $29.95 


I Both books will be available in May 2000. 


1 p 

Companions in Grace 

A Handbook for Directors of the Spiritual 
% Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola 


| A guide and companion for those who direct others in 

| making the Spiritual Exercises. A new edition of a 1980 

|| classic, by two outstanding experts in the field. Each of 

| the four Weeks of the Exercises is treated in detail, and 

p the book includes sections on Ignatius's rule for dis- 

| cernment, directing an eight-day retreat, the 

H nineteenth-annotation retreat, annotation eighteen, and 

I more. 

ll Ponor T.QT*M 1.R«nflin.Qfi.7 

Paper ISBN 1-880810-38-7 
| pp. vii + 249: $18.95 


Roberto de Nobili, S.J. 

(Trans. Anand Amaladass, S.J., and Francis X. Clooney, S.J.) 

| Preaching Wisdom to the Wise 

Three Treatises by Roberto de Nobili, S.J. 

How should the Christian faith be communicated to a 

non-European culture? Roberto de Nobili was one of 

the earliest Jesuit missionaries to address this question. 

| This book gives three of de Nobili's treatises, classic 

| early examples of a move toward what would now be 

| called "inculturation," as well as an introduction by the 




Of all things . 

How would you like to have a shower of rose petals descending on your 
head from on high? On Pentecost Sunday we celebrate one of the major feasts of the 
liturgical year, commemorating the descent of the Holy Spirit in tongues of fire, as 
Scripture says, upon the "apostles, together with a group of women and Mary the 
mother of Jesus, and his brothers." At Mass on the most recent Pentecost Sunday in 
Rome, the fire department stationed a group of its members on the dome of the 
Pantheon; from their precarious perch they tossed bushel upon bushel of rose petals 
through the great oculus of that dome, Suggestive of the tongues of fire, the rose 
petals gently wafted down upon the men and women below until they formed 
fragrant heaps around the feet of those present. And some even they picked the 
petals up and tossed them joyfully at one another. Some people become very uptight, 
even distressed, at what they perceive as the least variation from official norms of 
liturgical celebration. This is not to slight their concerns; still, this story of a Roman 
Pentecost practice (nowhere in any official liturgical book) might help toward a more 
serene attitude when something pastorally appropriate takes place "non contra sed 
praeter" (not against but outside) particular norms. 

From rose petals to reading. Summer gives an opportunity for such reading. 
Here are comments on two of the books that I found especially interesting. Thomas 
Rausch, S.J., chairman of the Department of Theology at Loyola Marymount Uni- 
versity in Los Angeles, has written a new book, Reconciling Faith and Reason: Apolo- 
gists, Evangelists, and Theologians in a Divided Church (The Liturgical Press: College- 
ville, Minn.). In about 130 pages he takes up the question of how, even in a divided 
Church, Catholics can teach and reflect on their faith in a way at once critical, 
faithful to Catholic tradition, and truly evangelical. The book is eminently fair- 
minded and therefore will please partisans of neither "Catholic fundamentalism [nor] 
an academic theology cut off from the life and faith of the Church." It treats the 
familiar hot-button questions of a divided Church, contemporary Catholic theology, 
the new apologists, Scripture and Tradition and Church, sexual morality, the Eucha- 
rist and liturgy, and the new evangelization— all in search of a common ground in 
theology— and it does so quietly, lucidly, and competently. 

Not at all quietly, Garry Wills in Papal Sin (New York: Doubleday) deals 
with what the book's subtitle calls "structures of deceit" in the nineteenth, twentieth, 
and twenty-first centuries of the Catholic Church. The operative word is "struc- 
tures." Just as in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries there were in the Church 
structures that encouraged avarice among popes, and in those and the next centuries 
structures that encouraged earthly political power, and in the same centuries struc- 
tures that made papal nepotism almost inevitable, so, according to Wills, there arc 
today structures that make deceit all too easy and widespread. A reader may find the 
book in places strident (I do) and may not always agree with its strictures (I don't); 
but Wills has a lot of serious concerns to write about. The twenty-one chapters of 


the book are divided into four sections entitled "Historical Dishonesties," "Doctrinal 
Dishonesties," "The Honesty Issue," and "The Splendor of Truth." Wills maintained 
that the problem is not "as clear-cut and direct as simple lying. That is why I speak 
of the 'structures of deceit.' . . . There are many people who take on themselves the 
duty of maintaining in good repair [such] structures," and all of this "for the good of 
the church." 

Apart from the text itself, three circumstances ought to give pause to 
Church officials. First, this is not Catholic bashing by a disgruntled insider or by a 
querulous outsider. This is a cri du coeur, a cry from the heart by a convinced, 
practicing Catholic happy to identify himself as such, an intelligent and invariably 
thoughtful scholar and author. He ought to be taken seriously, even when we may 
vigorously disagree on particular points or emphases. Second, the book has been for 
more than two months on the New York Times' best-seller list. Books of this type do 
not usually produce such sales. Those sales will be dismissed by some as a phenome- 
non of the "chattering class," people interested in buying any book that retails a new 
controversy in the Church. But that dismissal would be wrong, at least taking into 
account this piece of anecdotal evidence, my third circumstance. 

I have come across too many Catholics, plain, ordinary, simple, solid, 
middle-of-the-road, church-going Catholics* who, on reading the book, have said 
something like "Yes, that's it! That's what I feel about a lot of the activities that I see 
going on in the Church." One may agree or disagree with that perception, but if it is 
out there, shared but unarticulated by good Catholics until they read and find them- 
selves in agreement with a certain book, then that book ought to be taken seriously. 
Whether it will be by the people who most ought to do so is an open question. 

As the last item for this issue of STUDIES, may I introduce the new mem- 
bers of the Seminar of Jesuit Spirituality. They are James Keenan, S.J., who teaches 
moral theology at Weston Jesuit School of Theology; Douglas Marcouiller, S.J., who 
teaches economics at Boston College; Thomas O'Malley, S.J., who is associate dean 
of arts and sciences and teaches in the honors program at Boston College; and Wil- 
liam Rehg, S.J., who teaches philosophy at Saint Louis University. My thanks to 
them for accepting membership on the seminar for a three-year term involving 
frequent meetings and papers to be submitted as possible essays for STUDIES. They 
are a generous group to take on those responsibilities. 

John W. Padberg, SJ. 



Introduction l 

The Meaning of Culture 2 

Jesuit Spirituality: A Tensive Spirituality 4 

The Jesuit Subculture in My First Fifteen Years as a Jesuit 6 

A Total Institution 7 

The Spiritual Exercises 8 

Spiritual Reading 9 

Obedience 12 

Relationships 14 

Summary 15 

The Experiences of the Sixties 16 

My Experience of This Turmoil 17 

Tertianship 18 

Graduate Studies 18 

Recovering Ignatian Spirituality 22 

The Fifteenth Introductory Explanation 23 

The Variety of Prayer Forms 25 

Adaptation to the Individual 25 

The Role of Desires 26 

The Discernment of Spirits 27 

The Account of Conscience 28 

Turning Forward with Love 29 

SOURCES: The Maturing of Our Minds in Christ 37 


Past, Present, and Future 

A Jubilarian's Reflections on Jesuit Spirituality 


In Stone Song: A Novel of the Life of Crazy Horse, Win Blevins describes 
in poignant detail the terrible dilemma of the Lakota leader Crazy 
Horse as he and his people face the coming of the white people and the 
inevitable end of their Indian culture. The Lakota could foresee the end of 
an age, the age of the buffalo and of their way of life as a nomadic people 
dependent upon the buffalo for their livelihood. Just before he decided to 
enter the reservation for the sake of the people, he and another brave spoke 
with a seer named Horn Chips. Horn Chips ruminated on the way times 

"Big changes come sometimes," he said. . . . "Not every seven genera- 
tions, but seven times seven or a hundred times seven, changes come that 
are too great to foresee, far too great to understand." 

He looked at them somberly. "I believe this one of the teachings of the 
Inyan [Spirits]: When the old ways are dead," he said, "it means that a new 
way is upon us. We cannot discern it yet, but it is at hand." . . . He looked 
directly at Crazy Horse. "The old way is beautiful. We turn backward to it 
and in taking leave we offer it our love. Then we turn forward and walk 
forth blindly, offering our love. Yes, blindly." 1 

1 Win Blevins, Stone Song: A Novel of the Life of Crazy Horse (New York: Tom 
Doherty Associates, 1995), 320f. 

Rev. William A. Barry, S.J., a former provincial of the New England Jesuit 
Province, is codirector of the tertianship program in that province, as well as retreat 
director and writer. His most recent book is With an Everlasting Love: Developing .1 
Relationship of Intimacy with God, published by Paulist Press. Fr. Barry's address is 
Campion Renewal Center, 314 Concord Road, Weston, MA 02493. 

2 * William A. Barry, S.J. 

Thus did Horn Chips counsel Crazy Horse to face the terrible changes 

As I reflect on fifty years in the Society of Jesus, I sense that we 
have experienced the kind of "big change" Horn Chips described. In these 
fifty years the cultures and worldviews that made sense of our world col- 
lapsed around us, and we are still groping to find the new way. In this essay 
I want to help us turn backward to the old way, take leave of it while 
offering it our love, and then look forward with hope and love, trusting that 
the new way will be revealed to us in time. 

The Meaning of Culture 

Of the many definitions in Webster's New International Dictionary, 
the following best fits the theme of this paper: "The complex of 
distinctive attainments, beliefs, traditions, etc., constituting the 
background of a racial, religious, or social group." 2 Culture in this sense is 
the way a particular group of people make sense of their world; it provides 
what N. T. Wright calls a worldview. 3 A worldview answers the basic 
questions of existence for those who share in it: Who are we? Where are we? 
What's the problem? What's the solution? What time is it? A worldview is 
the lens through which we comprehend our world. Like the lenses many of 
us use to enhance our eyesight, a worldview is taken for granted and oper- 
ates without our awareness unless something happens that causes us to 
reflect on it. In the United States, for example, we imbibed a worldview 
after World War II that could be expressed in this way: Who are we? We are 
a God-blessed, freedom-loving, democratic people. Where are we? We are in 
the land of the free, a land of opportunity. What's wrong? There are ene- 
mies without and within; namely, the Soviet Union and worldwide Commu- 

2 Clifford Geertz defines culture as "an historically transmitted pattern of 
meanings embodied in symbols, a system of inherited conceptions expressed in symbolic 
forms by means of which men communicate, perpetuate, and develop their knowledge 
about and attitudes toward life" (The Interpretation of Cultures [New York: Basic Books, 
1973], 89). Robert N. Bellah and his collaborators have a similar definition: "Those 
patterns of meaning that any group or society uses to interpret and evaluate itself and its 
situation. . . . We take culture to be a constitutive dimension of all human action. It is not 
an epiphenomenon to be explained by economic or political factors" [Habits of the Heart: 
Individualism and Commitment in American Life [New York: "Perennial Library," Harper 
& Row, 1986], 333). 

3 N. T. Wright, The New Testament and the People of God (Minneapolis: Fortress, 
1992), 122ff. 

Pasty Present, and Future •!• 3 

nism, who are bent on our destruction and the conquest of the world. 
What's the solution? We must defeat them and thwart them at every turn. 
What time is it? The time of great trial for all free peoples. A cultural world- 
view is inculcated in every member of the group by formal and informal 
education, as well as by formation and, increasingly, the mass media. One 
can see why John Staudenmaier says of himself, "I am a late-twentieth-cen- 
tury capitalist." 4 But, of course, he could have added many more identities; 
such as, "I am a late-twentieth-century American Roman Catholic," "Ameri- 
can Jesuit priest," "academician," and so on. In addition, because of his age 
he could also have said of himself, as I can say of myself, "I am a Roman 
Catholic formed by the pre- Vatican II culture and reformed, insofar as this is 
possible, by the post-Vatican II culture." 

For the most part, the influence of a culture and its worldview on 
us escapes our consciousness. We have so imbibed our culture or cultures 
that we are unaware of how they condition our behavior. Let me offer one 
example: A few years ago I spent three weeks in Ireland and took a good 
many walks. In the course of those jaunts, every time I had to cross a street 
I first looked left and started across if I saw no traffic; only then would I 
look right to see if any traffic was coming from the other way. In the 
United States this ingrained way of proceeding is not only second nature but 
also self-protective. In Ireland it was downright dangerous, because the 
pattern of traffic is just the opposite of ours. So I learned that I was uncon- 
sciously conditioned to a pattern of traffic by growing up in the United 
States. Similarly, when I drove a car in Ireland, I periodically experienced 
anxiety, for I instinctively felt that I was on the wrong side of the road. 
Attempts to change the unconscious way we do things lead to anxiety. So it 
should not surprise us that culture influences our image of God. 

I was born in Worcester, Mass., in 1930 and entered the Society of 
Jesus in 1950. Like most of my Catholic contemporaries, I grew up in a 
Catholic subculture of the overarching culture of the United States. My 
parents were immigrants from Ireland who married in 1929, just after the 
beginning of the great depression. In my neighborhood most of the families 
were headed by immigrants or sons and daughters of immigrants of various 
nationalities. There were some Protestants in our neighborhood, but not 

4 John M. Staudenmaier, S.J., "To Fall in Love with the World: Individualism 
and Self-Transcendence in American Life," STUDIES IN THE SPIRITUALITY OF JESUITS 26, 
no. 3 (May 1994). He makes the point that culture inheres so deeply in us that it is only 
with difficulty that we can be believers. "Culture lies too deeply embedded in human 
beings to ever become completely baptized, and the life of faith in every era takes the 
form of a holy tension between primordial cultural tendencies and God's endlessly 
affectionate challenge to learn to live faithfully" (2). 

4 + William A. Barry, S.J. 

many. Life revolved around our parish church, where I served as an altar 
boy and sang in the choir. I went to our parish grammar school staffed by 
the Sisters of Mercy, and then attended a relatively small high school for 
boys staffed by the Xaverian Brothers. After high school I entered a some- 
what larger world, the College of the Holy Cross, taught by the Jesuits; but 
it was still in Worcester and still part of the Catholic subculture of the 
United States. When I entered the Jesuits after two years of college, I entered 
another strong subculture, that of the Society of Jesus. Until the 1960s I was 
immersed in these cultures, whose ways were unquestioned. In a manner of 
speaking, they were like the air I breathed. Just as I did not question the air, 
so too I did not question the cultures in which I grew up. I was an Ameri- 
can and a Catholic, and later a Jesuit, and proud of it. 

I have been shaped, as have all U. S. Jesuits who are over fifty years 
of age, by the larger culture of the United States in the twentieth century (a 
century that has been called the "American century"), by the Catholic 
subculture in which we grew up, and, finally, by the Jesuit subculture within 
both. These cultures conditioned our understanding of our world, the way 
we perceived our world and the way we acted in it. They also conditioned 
the way we related to God, that is to say, our spirituality. The larger culture 
and these subcultures have undergone profound, even seismic, changes in my 
lifetime, changes that have shaken all of us. The United States, the Roman 
Catholic Church, and the Society of Jesus have radically changed. I believe 
that we do not yet see clearly what these three entities will become in the 
new age that is being born. 

Jesuit Spirituality: A Tensive Spirituality 

Jesuit spirituality can be said to embody a set of creative tensions. Jesuits 
are to be men of prayer for whom spiritual means are primary, yet they 
are asked to use all the natural means at their disposal for their apostolic 
work. Jesuits are to be men "crucified to the world," yet actively engaged in 
the world; they are, indeed, expected to find God in the world and in all 
things. Jesuits are to be distinguished by their poverty, yet able to carry out 
their apostolic activities among the wealthy as well as among the poor. 
Jesuits are to be chaste and to be known as chaste, but are expected to be at 
home on the road, outside the cloister, that is. Jesuits are to be men of 
passion, intelligence, initiative, and creativity, yet obedient to superiors. 
Jesuits are to be men who believe that God communicates directly with 
individuals, including themselves, and thus should be discerning as regards 
the movements of their hearts; yet they are also to be men distinguished by 

Pasty Present, and Future -fr 5 

disciplined obedience and fidelity to the hierarchical Church. In Ignatius's 
Spiritual Exercises itself the tension is evident: 5 the fifteenth preliminary 
observation (no. 15), with its premise that God communicates to individuals, 
exists in tension with the "Rules for Thinking with the Church" (nos. 
352ff.). In addition, the book contains a structured set of exercises, yet these 
exercises are to be adapted to the needs and talents of the individual. The 
tension in Ignatian spirituality comes to the fore when Jesuits debate the 
purpose of the Exercises: Is it union with God or finding the will of God in 
one's life? This dispute sets in clear relief the tension at the heart of Jesuit 
spirituality. 6 

Jesuit spirituality functions best when these tensions are alive and 
clearly felt, that is, when Jesuits experience in themselves the influence of 
each polarity. Jesuits are at their best, for example, when they are attracted 
to spending much time in prayer but have to rein in that attraction for the 
sake of their apostolic activity, or when Jesuit theologians experience the 
tension of being faithful Ro- 
man Catholics while searching 

for new ways to express the Jesuit spirituality can be said to em- 

truths of faith in a different b dy a set of creative tensions. 

culture. Because of these cre- 
ative tensions, Jesuit spiritual- ~~ ~— mmmm — ~ ~^ "^ ^ ~~ 
ity has been caricatured in the 

past and is being caricatured at the present time. Ignatius himself, for 
example, was accused of being influenced by the "alumbrados" (the "enlight- 
ened ones") because the Spiritual Exercises presumed that God communicates 
with individuals. More recently in our history, Jesuit spirituality has been 
caricatured as rationalistic and coldly ascetical. Not only have outsiders 
caricatured Jesuit spirituality, but it has actually seemed to offer grounds for 
these caricatures. In Ignatius's own time, some of the more prominent Jesuits 
of Portugal wanted to imitate monks and devote long hours each day to 
solitary prayer, but they succeeded only in evoking strong reprimands from 
Ignatius. In our history there have been Jesuits who became so immersed in 
the world that they seemed to have lost their religious underpinnings and to 

5 See, for example, The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, ed. and trans. George E. 
Ganss, SJ. (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1992). Text citations refer to the bold- 
faced marginal numbers in most modern editons of the Exercises. 

For a discussion of these tensions see Joseph de Guibert, The Jesuits: Thar 
Spiritual Doctrine and Practice: A Historical Study (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1964; 
St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1972). John W. O'Malley also describes a similar 
series of polarities or tensions in The First Jesuits (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University 
Press, 1993), 369f. 

6 + William A. Barry, S.J. 

be indistinguishable from their worldly counterparts. 7 I believe that during 
my early days in the Society we failed to experience some of these tensions 
of Jesuit spirituality, with some predictable results when our cultural founda- 
tions crumbled. 

The Jesuit Subculture in My First Fifteen Years 

as a Jesuit 

Some description of the Jesuit subculture of my formation years may be 
helpful at this point. After high school I had, through an almost 
accidental sequence of events, enrolled at the College of the Holy 
Cross, where I met some of the best teachers of my life, men who made a 
deep impression on me. At the end of my sophomore year, I decided to 
apply to enter the Society, a last-minute decision made when a classmate and 
good friend told me that he had applied. Why did I enter the Society of 
Jesus in 1950? No one, of course, can understand all his motivations, but let 
me at least try to paint the picture as best I can reconstruct it. I was the 
product of a Catholic culture that idealized the vocation to the priesthood 
and religious life. Most families felt honored to have one of their members 
enter the seminary or religious life. No doubt, this cultural bias had an 
influence on me. In addition, I had long sensed a hunger for God that led 
me to visit the parish church for prayer and for daily Mass, to read lives of 
saints and religious novels, and to serve Mass. Thomas Merton's The Seven 
Storey Mountain made a strong impression on me during the summer of 
1949. Here was a very intelligent convert who had fallen in love with God 
and had embraced the religious life. The Jesuits at the College of the Holy 
Cross were very attractive because of their learning, the evident holiness of 
some of them, and their desire to help their students develop their minds 
and their hearts. I remember a feeling of peace and tranquility one lovely 
summer evening as I saw a several Jesuits walking through the campus 
saying their breviaries. The Jesuits also seemed to be men who knew who 
they were and where they were going. They exuded an aura of intelligence, 
culture, success, and purpose. I presume, too, that there was the attraction of 
upward mobility for a young man from the working class who had grown 
up during the depression years of the 1930s. One thing is clear: I was 
entering a group of winners, men with a robust, masculine spirituality that 
was very attractive. 

See de Guibert, Jesuits, 167ff., for instances of these caricatures. 

Pasty Presenty and Future 4* 7 

Thirty other young men entered with me that summer, most of 
them right out of high school; but some of us had attended college or were 
veterans of World War II. Most of these men had studied at Jesuit high 
schools or colleges. They were, like my Holy Cross classmates, intelligent, 
idealistic, and ambitious — in other words, an attractive group of men. We 
were introduced into a rather regimented life in a large old mansion, "Shad- 
owbrook," made to house close to 130 Jesuits— about 65 novices, 50 scholas- 
tics studying classics, and the priests and brothers who staffed the house. 
When we take into account that there were seven or so other novitiates in 
the United States, all of them bursting with new recruits, we have a measure 
of how attractive the Society of Jesus was in those days. 

A Total Institution 

How would I describe this Jesuit subculture? It was all-encompassing 
and had the characteristics of what Erving GofTman later called a "total 
institution." 8 Shadowbrook was, like most novitiates in the Society at the 
time, located far from a large city. Indeed, most of the houses of formation 
in the Society in those years before the Second Vatican Council were located 
in rural areas. We wore uniform clothes most of each day, called each other 
by our formal title (Brother Barry), and had our day organized down to the 
hour and the minute. In the novitiate, incoming and outgoing mail was 
censored, and no newspapers or radio programs were allowed. Indeed, even 
Jesuit visitors were restricted to those invited by the novice master. There 
was almost no privacy; we slept in a large dormitory and prayed, studied, 
and read in large common rooms. During our first year, our only forays into 
the "world" were for doctor's appointments or to teach catechism at a local 
parish. In second year we spent one month living in groups of three at 
Boston City Hospital working as orderlies. Thus we were almost totally 
insulated from the world around us. In later periods of formation, the 
isolation from the outside world was less total, but we lived, studied, 
worked, and played in institutions that were socially and culturally isolated. 
These institutions immersed us in the Jesuit subculture. In this subculture we 
learned that we were not of the world; but we did not experience the other 
side of the tension mentioned earlier, namely, that we were to be immersed 
in the world. 

8 Erving Goffman, Asylums: Essays on the Social Situation of Mental Patients and 
Other Inmates (Garden City, N.Y.: Anchor Books, 1961). 

8 * William A. Barry, S.J. 

The Spiritual Exercises 

We learned about the Jesuit spiritual tradition through lectures by 
the novice master, through regular spiritual reading, and through making the 
Spiritual Exercises as a group, in October of our first year. Each day of this 
thirty-day retreat, except for three "break days," the novice master gave four 
or five talks, providing us with "points" for the meditation or contemplation 
that was to follow. (I used to hope that he would talk a long time, so that 
the time for personal prayer would be shorter.) We saw the novice master 
once a week or so for an individual conference. I have no recollection of 
what happened during those conversations, except that I was relieved when I 
left the room, much as I was relieved when confession was over. I also recall 
wondering whether I would ever be able to do "Ignatian" prayer, since I 
could not create scenes in my imagination, such as seemed to be required by 
the "composition of place." 

I recall having moments of great longing and love for God in the 
woods around Shadowbrook, moments that reminded me of similar times 
before I entered the novitiate. But, as far as I could tell, it was not expected 
that I would bring up such moments and discuss their meaning with the 
novice master, let alone with anyone else. As a product of the larger culture 
of American individualism and of an Irish subculture that did not encourage 
talk about one's inner states, I was also conditioned not to speak of such 
inner experiences; and I do not recall ever wishing that I could do so. So I 
fit harmoniously into what I felt was the custom in the Jesuit life, namely, 
that one did not speak of personal inner experiences with anyone. Mind 
you, the novice master, who was the only spiritual director for all the 
novices, would have found it impossible to delve meaningfully into the 
spiritual experiences of sixty or more young men, even if he had wanted to. 9 

Each novice was expected to make an "election" during the Second 
Week of the Spiritual Exercises. This "election," however, was not about the 
choice of a way of life, but rather about the reform of one's life. During our 
yearly eight-day retreat thereafter, we were also expected to make such an 
"election." In my case, I am afraid, these "elections" often reeked of trivial- 
ity. For example, I believe that I once "elected" to wash toilet bowls because 
I thought I needed to become more humble. The "discernment of spirits" for 

9 The isolation of Jesuits from one another's inner experience showed itself as 
late as 1972, when William J. Connolly and I directed a two-summer tertianship program 
for the first time. We asked the group of tertians to converse with one another about their 
image and experience of Jesus. They said that it was the first time they had ever spoken of 
Jesus with another Jesuit. 

PasU Present, and Future •$• 9 

such "elections" consisted of making a list of pros and cons, Ignatius's third 
way of making an election. 

Thus were we introduced to the experience that is considered the 
foundation of the spirituality of the Society of Jesus. There was neither time 
nor opportunity for adaptation of the Exercises to the individual. If we had 
any questions, we kept them to ourselves— at least, I did. Once again, one of 
the tensions characteristic of Jesuit spirituality was not encountered. We 
experienced the disciplined program of the Exercises, to be sure, but not its 
adaptation to the needs and talents of the individual. In addition, we had no 
opportunity to discuss our personal experiences in prayer with a director, or 
afterwards to converse with one another about our experiences. Thus, we 
had no lived experience of the discernment of spirits, another hallmark of 
Jesuit spirituality. Moreover, for years after the novitiate, we went through 
the four weeks of the Exercises in our annual eight-day retreat under a 
director who gave four or five talks to large groups of scholastics. We had 
no idea that the original intent of Ignatius was to direct individuals through 
the full Exercises, adapting them to the individual's temperament and present 
state of soul. 

Some men who grew up under this regime have told me that they 
came to hate prayer as a result and dropped private prayer for a time when 
free to do so. I did not do so. Why? Perhaps it was a dogged devotion to 
duty, but I choose also to believe that I was enticed to continue by the 
occasional times of wonder, longing, and warmth that would overtake me 
when I engaged in prayer. I suspect that I am not alone in this experience. 

Spiritual Reading 

Spiritual reading was another method of imbibing the Jesuit way of 
proceeding. In the novitiate, for four days a week we devoted one period of 
a half hour to reading the three-volume spiritual classic by Alphonsus 
Rodriguez, S.J., written at the beginning of the seventeenth century, just 
forty years after the death of Ignatius, as a way to instruct novices in the 
Jesuit way of life. 10 It had been used, apparently, ever since in every Jesuit 
novitiate in the world. 11 Most of the examples— and the volumes are filled 

10 Alphonsus Rodriguez, Practice of Perfection and Christian Virtues, trans. Joseph 
Rickaby, 3 vols. (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1929). 

11 This is a measure of the uniformity of the Jesuit subculture. Indeed, when I 
went to Germany for philosophy in 1953, I discovered that the Jesuits from Germany, 
Austria, Switzerland, Great Britain, Ireland, and Japan had passed through novitiates that 
differed very little from mine. 

10 * William A. Barry, SJ. 

with them— are from the monks of the desert or from the chronicles of St. 
Francis of Assisi. Prayer is described in somewhat utilitarian terms, that is, 
as a way to save oneself from dangers and temptations and to get favors 
from God; it is, as Rodriguez notes, a way "to attune and put in order our 
whole life" (1:285). He writes that there are two sorts of prayer, "one 
common and easy, the other very special, extraordinary and advanced, 
something received rather than made" (1:289). He then writes at length 
about the latter and how it cannot be taught. We were given the message 
that this kind of prayer was not for the likes of us. Finally, when he gets to 
ordinary prayer, he describes the prayer of the three powers of the soul, the 
prayer presented as meditation by Ignatius in the first week of the Exercises. 
Thus we were given the impression that Ignatian prayer was limited to this 
method of meditation. 

Rodriguez's teaching on prayer was reinforced by other books on 
this subject that became our staple spiritual reading. One of them was 
Edward Leen's Progress through Mental Prayer} 2 Leen, an Irish member of the 
Congregation of the Holy Spirit, wrote a number of books that we read as 
novices. His Progress gives hints that the end of prayer is a love relationship 
with God, but the stronger message is the utilitarian end of prayer. For 

example, he writes, "The real end of 
mmmm ._ mm ^ ^mm~ i^^^— ^^— - prayer therefore is to be good, to effect in 

ourselves the dispositions to sanctification, 
The lives of Jesuit saints that is, to purify our souls and replace our 

gave US examples of men natural views by the views of Jesus Christ 

who found God in apOS- and to substitute for our natural life, His 

tolic activity. mode of life" (64). Leen is less sanguine 

than Rodriguez about the ease of this type 
— — — ^— — — of prayer. He makes it very clear that 

prayer is not natural to us and that we 
have to fight hard against our human nature in order to reach the state 
where God becomes attractive. "Spirituality has no attraction to nature; on 
the contrary nature is repelled by it" (72). Novices in the spiritual life "come 
to Jesus with a natural outlook, independent, passionate, sensual, proud, 
uncharitable," lovers "of ease and self-satisfaction"; and they are unaware of 
their reality (66). Leen's book reinforced Rodriguez's admonitions about the 
need for mortification of our natural inclinations and of continuous disci- 
plined watchfulness against our natural tendencies toward sloth and neglect 
of prayer. In the books we read in the novitiate, prayer was presented as 
necessary for our religious life, but hard work. I cannot recall any indication 

12 Edward Leen, Progress through Mental Prayer (New York: Sheed & Ward, 

Past, Present, and Future -h 1 1 

that my heart might, at its deepest level, desire God and that prayer might 
be the answer to my deepest longing. As a result, I did not think of prayer 
in terms of a relationship. 

For fifteen minutes each day in the novitiate, we also read Thomas 
a Kempis's The Following of Christ. 13 This spiritual classic, so beloved by 
Ignatius, speaks eloquently at times of the love of God. For example, in 
chapter 5 of book 3, Thomas prays movingly to God in this fashion: "O 
Lord, God, my holy Lover, when Thou shalt come into my heart, all that is 
within me shall be filled with joy. Thou art my glory and the exultation of 
my heart. Thou art my hope and my refuge in the day of my tribulation" 
(179). Moreover, the book contains wisdom for the ages about how to 
comport oneself as a follower of Christ. But, like much of the spiritual 
reading of the novitiate, it is written from a monastic perspective, nowhere 
more clearly shown than in the lines "The cell continually dwelt in groweth 
sweet," which we memorized in its Latin original, "Cella continuata dulces- 
cit" (70). The monastic predilection of our novitiate also showed itself in the 
way we gravitated toward the books of Abbot Marmion, such as Christ the 
Life of the Soul and Christ the Ideal of the Monk. 

Of course, we also read the lives of Jesuit saints. These gave us 
examples of men who found God in apostolic activity. But the lived experi- 
ence of Jesuit spirituality told us that a healthy spiritual life needed much 
silence, time alone, and space. The very setting of our houses of formation 
told us that God was most easily found apart from the hustle and bustle of 
the city. Moreover, the separa- 
tion from our families and 

friends and former way of J n the Constitutions Ignatius makes it 
life, from any news and any quite clear that Jesuit superiors should 
contact with the outside y e men whom t £, eir su yj ects can l ove . 

world, was complete, suggest- 
ing that the Jesuit way of life — ^ — ■ - — - - — ~— - —" 
required total separation from 

the surrounding culture. Our spiritual reading reinforced this impression. We 
were trained as monks for the Jesuit way of life. Not that we were not told 
about the Jesuit ideal of finding God in all things— we were. But the whole 
way of life in the novitiate, and even in later formation, communicated a 
somewhat different ideal, and it was monastic. 

13 Thomas a Kempis, The Following of Christ, ed. J. M. Lelen (New York: 
Catholic Book Publishing Co., 1941). 

12 * William A. Barry, SJ. 


Another aspect of the Jesuit subculture also spoke volumes to us 
about the Jesuit way of proceeding. Obedience to the least sign of the 
superior's will was emphasized. Moreover, it was made clear that obedience 
was required no matter how arbitrary the command might seem. For 
example, we read in Rodriguez how Augustine described the disobedience of 
Adam and Eve. "So St. Augustine says that nothing could better show the 
great evil of disobedience than the sight of the evil that came upon man by 
the mere eating, against the commandment of God, of a thing that had no 
harm in it, and could have done harm to nobody, but for the eating of it 
being forbidden." 14 In other words, God's commandment was arbitrary; its 
only purpose was to show that he was master. Our obedience was to show 
itself in our obedience to superiors, of course, but also to the cook, to those 
who were put in charge of the jobs to which we were assigned, to the 
manuductor, the second-year novice who controlled much of our daily lives. 
The day was broken up into relatively small segments marked off from one 
another by the bell of the manuductor. This order of the day aimed to teach 
us to obey instantly, leaving what we were doing, no matter how important 
we thought it or how much we liked it, at the sound of the bell. Of course, 
we were taught about the possibility of representation to a superior if we 
had reason to question an order, but this teaching did not have much 
practical effect on our lives. Once again, the tension inherent in Jesuit 
spirituality, here between individual discernment and obedience, was not 
experienced; for us the accent was laid on blind obedience. 

We were also taught about the account of conscience, but we did 
not see it in practice. We were expected to make an account of conscience to 
the novice master and afterwards our rector at least twice a year and to the 
provincial once a year. With the novice master and rector, the account of 
conscience often took the form of confessing one's faults and failings. I do 
not recall any conversation about my interior life, that is, about my inner 
experiences and how they might relate to present or future apostolic activity. 
The account of conscience with the provincial was a short meeting in which 
we asked for our general permissions. I do not recall any meaningful conver- 
sation with a provincial about my inner life or about my own hopes and 
dreams for my apostolic life in my early years in the Society. Mind you, 
even if the provincial had wanted to engage in such conversations, he would 
not have had the time. The provincial of New England had over a thousand 

14 Rodriguez, Practice of Perfection, 3:275. 

Pasty Present, and Future 4* 13 

men under his jurisdiction. 15 Thus, obedience seemed to be a one-way street: 
orders came from superiors without any discussion with the subject. That 
this was the Jesuit way of proceeding became amply illustrated when each 
year the "status" was put on the bulletin board and men found out their 
assignment for the following year, most often without any prior discussion 
with the provincial. Our training in obedience led us to accept the "status" 
and the "account of conscience" just described as the Jesuit way of proceeding. 

In the Constitutions Ignatius makes it quite clear that Jesuit superi- 
ors should be men whom their subjects can love. They are, certainly, to be 
firm in their decisions and to expect obedience, but they are to act with 
love. For example, we read this description of the novice master: 

It will be beneficial to have a faithful and competent person to instruct and 
teach the novices how to conduct themselves inwardly and outwardly, to 
encourage them to this, to remind them of it, and to give them loving 
admonition: a person whom all those who are in probation may love and 
to whom they may have recourse in their temptations and open themselves 
with confidence, hoping to receive from him in our Lord counsel and aid in 
everything. 16 

Later in the same part, Ignatius writes of the manner of giving admonitions: 
"[T]hose who fall into a fault ought to be admonished the first time with 
love and with gentleness, the second time with love and in such a way that 
they feel abashed and ashamed, the third time with love and the instilling of 
fear" (no. 270). In other parts of the Constitutions, it is made clear that love 
should be at the heart of the relationship between superior and subject in 
the Society. 17 

What was our experience? As I look back on my novice master 
now, I realize that he had a very difficult job. He had to mold young men of 
intelligence, ambition, and immaturity into Jesuits, and he had to do it 
almost single-handedly. And there were over sixty of us all the time. At the 
time, my predominant emotions toward him— and, I believe, most of my 

In fact, when, in the 1970s, the account of conscience began to be practiced 
more in line with the expectations of the Constitutions, the provincials of the larger 
provinces asked Father General to appoint vice-provincials, because the task was 
impossible for one man. 

See, for example, The Constitutions of the Society of Jesus and Their 
Complementary Norms (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1996), Part III, no. 263 (p. 

17 For example, see Constitutions no. 667 (p. 324): "[It will further help if] the 
superior on his part employs all possible love, modesty, and charity in our Lord so that 
the subjects may be disposed always to have greater love than fear for their superiors." 

14 * William A. Barry, SJ. 

peers shared these reactions— were fear, reverence, and admiration. He was 
an austere man who exemplified the mortified man we were supposed to be. 
Just one trivial example: One day, during the daily conference, a fly landed 
on his brow and began to walk around his face. He seemed not to notice it 
and kept on with his lecture. We, of course, did notice it and believed that 
he had just prescinded from its presence, a sign of his mortification. We 
heard stories, almost as soon as we entered, of how he had dismissed men 
from the novitiate overnight, and during our novitiate men were dismissed. 
Worse yet, because of the secrecy surrounding departures, we never knew 
for sure why someone had been dismissed. The master had a strong temper, 
again held in check, we believed, by his strong will. But we knew it was 
there. He was a man to be feared. 18 In my early years in the Society, superi- 
ors, by and large, were much more feared than loved. As a result, we would 
have found it difficult to speak openly with them about our inner lives, 
especially about any inner turmoil we might have been experiencing. Thus 
the openness between subject and superior that should characterize the 
relationship was compromised. I did not learn to entrust the inner move- 
ments of my heart to my superiors. Given my upbringing in an Irish family 
where talk about feelings was almost unheard of, I was right at home. 


Close personal relationships with one or a few other novices were 
discouraged. We were expected to be "friends" with everyone. "Particular 
friendships" were frowned on. Touching, even in games, was forbidden. Men 
who became too friendly with one another would be reprimanded and 
sometimes "put on grades" with one another; that is, they could not speak 
with one another alone for a period of time. Of course, attractions devel- 
oped, but one learned to be careful about showing too much desire to be 
with one man or with a small group. Our formation thus encouraged in us 
the same kind of rugged individualism, at least for males, fostered by the 
culture of the United States and by my Irish subculture. The quality of 

18 My novice master's successor is described by one of his novices, who later left 
the Society, in a rather chilling account of one experience of "the quietest, most 
frightening tirade I ever heard" (Paul Linnehan, "Shadowbrook: Tracking God's Will in a 
Jesuit Seminary," The Gettysburg Review 11, no. 2 [1998]: 255). It is, by the way, 
instructive that the novitiate structure he describes sounds exactly like mine, although he 
entered fourteen years later under a different novice master and in a brand-new building 
that had been built after the old Shadowbrook had burned to the ground. The structure 
remained no matter who the master or what the environment might be. Only details 

Pasty Present, and Future •!• 15 

openness with one's companions that seems to have characterized the early 
Jesuits was not, as a result, a part of our training as Jesuits. 


Our life in the novitiate and thereafter was regimented, but I did 
not mind it. I took it as the way things had to be, the way Jesuit life was 
lived, the way that would make me like the men at the College of the Holy 
Cross whom I had admired. For the most part, we enjoyed one another's 
company: we shared good meals, some hard-fought games of football, 
baseball, and basketball; and, at times, we engaged in stimulating conversa- 
tions. In some ways, the life was easier than my days in high school and 
college, when I was also working long hours in a fruit-and-vegetable store. 
We accepted this life as the Jesuit way of proceeding. Moreover, we had 
witnessed tangible signs that 

this way of life produced re- mmmmmm ^^^^^^^^^.^^ »^_^_^^^^_ 
suits— our teachers in Jesuit 

high schools and colleges and V we cannot love our past, we cannot 
the quality of the schools acce P l and love ourselves and our 

themselves. In addition, we present, because we are products of 

had examples in our midst of that past with all its good and bad 

mature fellow novices, some elements. 

of whom had been in the 
armed services, who shared 

our way of life and seemed to find it meaningful and challenging. Nothing 
in our experience would lead us to believe that this way of life was not 
worthy of our best efforts. Of course, we took some of the regimentation 
with a grain of salt, but the grain of salt never led us to question the sound- 
ness of the whole enterprise. In addition, each year another class of thirty or 
more new men joined our ranks. The Jesuits had to be doing something 
right. This was an enterprise worth devoting our lives to. 

Nor should we forget that the Jesuits who made such significant 
contributions to the Church in the United States and in the world and to 
the Society in the past century were molded in this subculture. The forma- 
tion I have described produced those men who had exerted such an impact 
on the Second Vatican Council, who helped the Church in the United States 
face its racism, who transformed the teaching of theology not only in our 
seminaries but also in our schools for the laity, who revolutionized our 
understanding and practice of giving the Spiritual Exercises. Jesuit spirituality 
was alive during these years. Moreover, the recovery of the tensions of our 
spirituality has been achieved through the efforts of Jesuits who were formed 
as I was. As we face the changes in our subculture, we must not underesti- 

16 * William A. Barry, SJ. 

mate that subculture. As Horn Chips advises, we must take leave of it with 
love. Moreover, our past is worthy of such love. It has made us who we are. 
If we cannot love our past, we cannot accept and love ourselves and our 
present, because we are products of that past with all its good and bad 
elements. My purpose in this description has been, not to denigrate the past, 
but to help all of us to recognize who we are and how we came to be who 
we are. 

At any rate, it was within this subculture that I became a Jesuit. 
Within this worldview I grew to know who I was and how I should com- 
port myself. This worldview taught us the answers to the basic questions of 
life. Who are we? We are American Roman Catholics, followers of the true 
religion; and within that identity, we are members of the Society of Jesus, 
the elite religious order of the Roman Catholic Church. Where are we? We 
are in the land of the free, blessed with freedom of religion as well as 
political freedom. What's the problem? The world does not yet acknowledge 
the truth of Jesus Christ. What's the solution? We must preach Jesus Christ 
throughout the world and convert all to the one true Church. What time is 
it? The time between the first coming of Jesus and his second coming. 

The Experiences of the Sixties 

Beginning in the 1960s, the cultures that formed our identities as 
citizens of the United States, members of the Roman Catholic 
Church, and Jesuits began to break down. The seeds of this disinte- 
gration were, no doubt, sown much earlier. 19 Certainly, by the late 1960s 
questions were being raised about the American dream as the country 
confronted the ugly scars of systemic poverty and racism, and then the 
divisions over the Vietnam War. 

The Catholic Church, forced to come to terms with the modern 
world, began doing so during the Second Vatican Council. It is no exaggera- 
tion to say that the results of this council were revolutionary in terms of the 
Catholic subculture in the United States. Almost overnight, it seemed, things 
that had been taken for granted as necessary to being a Catholic were 
jettisoned as nonessential. Catholics who had believed that eating meat on 
Friday was a mortal sin, meriting eternal punishment, suddenly found that 

N. T. Wright argues forcefully that the culture of modernity which ruled the 
Western World from the time of the Industrial Revolution to recent times has brought on 
its own disintegration through arrogance (N. T. Wright, The Challenge of Jesus: 
Rediscovering Who Jesus Was and Is [Downers Grove, 111.: InterVarsity Press, 1999]). 

Pasty Present, and Future <b 17 

such abstinence was no longer required. The Latin liturgy, so long consid- 
ered part of our way of life, vanished, with few, if any, explanations being 
offered. We who had taken for granted that celibacy was an inseparable 
adjunct to the priesthood now heard the discipline questioned and witnessed 
the laicization and marriage of many priests. Catholics who had for years 
frequented the sacrament of confession on a regular basis— indeed, many of 
them had felt that confession was required before each Communion— now 
were told that confession was not necessary unless one had committed a 
mortal sin; and, given the changes, such sins became rarer. With apparent 
ease many stopped going to confession. I believe that most of us had fre- 
quented the sacrament because we had bought into the culture, but we 
rarely enjoyed the experience. Once it was no longer required, we let the 
practice go with relief. Many received all these changes with open arms; but 
because these changes were not adequately explained, many others experi- 
enced an underlying anxiety. What was essential to being a Catholic? Many 
Catholics — priests, religious, and laypeople— felt adrift in a sea of relativity 
now that the certainties of the Catholic subculture were no more. 

The Jesuit subculture suffered similar shocks. Within a few short 
years after Vatican II, novitiates and other houses of formation abandoned 
their rural surroundings; novices found themselves living in the heart of 
large cities, scholastics began studying with lay students at Jesuit universities, 
and theologates became part of ecumenical consortia. The habit, proper 
titles, classes, and examinations in Latin, a strict order of the day, large 
formation communities as total institutions— all vanished without a trace. 
Priests, scholastics, and brothers began to leave the Society in unprecedented 
numbers, and incoming novices became disconcertingly rare. Provinces and 
communities found themselves torn and divided as men tried to cope with 
all these changes, changes that amounted to a breakdown of our subculture. 
I am not at all sure that we have adequately dealt with the traumata of those 
years after Vatican II and General Congregations 31 and 32; perhaps we have 
not adequately grieved the losses of those years. 

My Experience of This Turmoil 

With the collapse of the cultural underpinnings, we stood in 
danger of losing our identity. What did it mean to be an Ameri- 
can, a Roman Catholic, and a Jesuit? We had to draw these 
answers from the new situation. The culture and the subcultures did not 
automatically supply the answers any more. How did we, or at least how 
did I, make it through? 

18 * William A. Barry, S.J. 


I made tertianship with about thirty other Jesuits in 1963-64. The 
structure of tertianship, including the thirty-day retreat, resembled very 
closely that of the novitiate. However, there were differences. For one thing, 
we raised questions about customs and traditions and were not satisfied with 
familiar answers that did not make sense. In addition, we talked with one 
another more openly about our experiences, although not yet about our 
experience in prayer. Because of the companionship and because of some 
significant experiences in prayer, I look back on that year with fondness and 

Graduate Studies 

In 1964 I began doctoral studies in clinical psychology at the 
University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, and remained there until 1969. Those 
were pivotal years for the country, the Church, and the Society. The 
country witnessed the civil-rights marches, the Vietnam War protests, the 
assassinations of Martin Luther King and of Bobby Kennedy. In the Church, 
the English Mass and concelebration were introduced, during which the 
priest faced the people. In the Society we experienced the changes mentioned 
earlier. It was a time of great ferment. 

Community The Jesuits and other religious studying at the university 
lived in rooming houses. Community life was not a given, 
but had to be chosen. During my years in Ann Arbor, there were usually at 
least a dozen Jesuits on campus. It became a custom for us to have dinner 
together once a week at a local restaurant. After my first year, four of us 
rented a house and began a small community. Soon we had learned that we 
could cook dinner with some competence and enjoyed doing so. Our house 
became something of a central Jesuit gathering place for special occasions. 
Three of us remained as the nucleus of that community for the rest of my 
time in Ann Arbor, and the community continued when the three of us 
moved on. It is to be noted, however, that not all the Jesuits in Ann Arbor 
greeted the formation of this community eagerly. One Jesuit—only half 
facetiously— began to refer to our house as Ledochowski Hall, a reference to 
a former superior general known for austerity. I believe that there was some 
fear that our house might lead to a formal Jesuit community with a superior. 

Liturgy and Prayer When concelebrated Mass in English was allowed, a 

few of us began to concelebrate at 5:00 P.M. from 
Monday to Friday at the local Catholic hospital chapel. This liturgy became 
the preferred daily liturgy for many of the religious and laity in the area 
who were studying at the university, and the center of my daily life. In 

Past, Present, and Future •!• 19 

addition, on Saturday evenings a number of religious, men and women alike, 
gathered in an apartment for Mass and a potluck supper. The desire for daily 
Mass remained strong in me and in other Jesuits and religious in Ann Arbor 
even now when there was no regular order of the day and no external 
pressure to continue the practice. 

Although we had not been encouraged to speak with others of our 
experiences in prayer during the years of our formation, this reticence does 
not signify that we did not have such experiences, although I cannot speak 
for anyone except myself. I can say that at least by the time I had reached 
tertianship, the idea of prayer as a personal relationship had taken some root 
in me. Indeed, during the Spiritual Exercises of that year, I remember telling 
Jesus that I loved him and realizing that I meant it. This was a momentous 
event in my life, even if I was not able to tell anyone else about it. Yet I 
have to say that this notion of a personal relationship did not lead me to a 
growing transparency with Jesus at the time. However, my expression of 
love for Jesus did stand me in good stead during the tumultuous years in 
Ann Arbor and after when other loves competed for that love. But I did 
keep up a regular regimen of prayer in spite of the absence of a structure 
that fostered such a regimen. 

Fulling in Love In retrospect, it is not surprising that the loss of so 

many cultural supports for Jesuit life led to emotional 
upheavals in men who had for years been insulated from the outside world 
and from close relationships with women, and who had even been discour- 
aged from developing close, intimate friendships with brother Jesuits. I had 
been in love as a teenager and in college. But I was not prepared for the 
resurgence of emotions when I fell in love in Ann Arbor. A section of a 
novel by Gail Godwin provides an apt description of what happened to me. 
Alice Henry, wife of Hugo Henry, has fallen in love with Francis Lake, a 
widower. Alice, her husband, and Francis are on an alumni donor tour. 
Alice muses on her emotional turmoil. 

All those years I secretly felt superior because I never made a fool of 
myself in love. That's because I was never in love, but I had to fall in love 
before I could understand I'd never been in love before. And now I'm no 
different from Amanda Fritchie, only she was fifteen at the time and I'll be 
thirty-five my next birthday. 

Surely you'd expect, though, if you'd been cool and controlled enough 
as an adolescent to sit on the sidelines of the jerky, mortifying dance of 
young love, that when you came up against middle-aged love, it would be 
conducted by your emotions in patient, dignified middle-aged fashion. 

But it didn't work that way. Apparently you had to go through the 
beginner's mess at whatever age you began. You didn't earn any interest or 
exemptions just because you'd managed not to lose your heart till you were 

20 * William A. Barry, S.J. 

almost thirty-five. If I'd waited to learn to read until I was almost thirty- 
five, thought Alice, dejected by her own analogy, I would have had to start 
where every first grader starts: sounding out the letters with my mouth, 
despairing yet aching toward the glimpsed embrace of total meaning. 20 

That is what it was like for me when I fell in love. I was in an emotional 
turmoil. Now I can look on the time as a natural result of the repression of 
the years of formation, but at the time it was both exhilarating and painful. 
As I mentioned above, I had not extended the notion of prayer as a personal 
relationship to include letting Jesus know of my inner turmoil. At best, I 
could confess my failings and ask for help. In addition, I had not learned 
how to talk with a spiritual director (or, for that matter, with a superior) 
about such experiences. In fact, I did not have a spiritual director. I was able 
to talk somewhat guardedly with a member of my community at the time, 
who was himself going through similar experiences. 

Yet, in spite of the strength of my love, I never gave serious 
thought to leaving the Society. Of course, I felt the commitment of the 
perpetual vows I had made in 1952. In addition, two experiences of my life 
as a Jesuit kept coming back to me. One was my declaration of love to Jesus 
during tertianship. The other was a conversation among Jesuit graduate 
students at Fordham when I was a regent. The topic was celibacy and why 
we were celibate. I became more and more frustrated with the utilitarian 
arguments for celibacy, namely, that celibacy made us more available and 
facilitated our apostolates in other familiar ways. Finally, I blurted out 
something that I did not know was a conviction until I said it. It went 
something like this: "I'm a Jesuit because this is where God wants me to be 
and where God knows I will be happiest." I can still say nothing better. A 
number of the Jesuits and other religious who were my companions and 
friends in Ann Arbor fell in love and left religious life. I fell in love and did 
not leave religious life. I believed that I belonged in the Society of Jesus. I 
have never regretted that choice. I bring up this experience because it shows 
that our formation had not prepared us well for living our Jesuit vocation 
where it is supposed to be lived, namely, in the middle of the world. 

A Compartmentalized Life At the University of Michigan, I received a 

very fine education in psychology and 
some excellent training as a clinical psychologist. When I finished my 
doctorate in 1968, I was asked to stay on in the department as a lecturer, 
staff psychologist, and researcher, and was given permission by my provin- 
cial to accept the position. I was known by my colleagues in the department 
as a Jesuit priest, but I wore lay clothes in my clinical work and later while 


Gail Godwin, The Good Husband (New York: Ballantine, 1994), 426. 

Pasty Present, and Future ♦ 21 

teaching. As I look back now, I realize that I lived a highly compartmental- 
ized life. On the one hand, I found the center of my life revolving around 
the daily liturgy and my community life, including my community with the 
other religious in Ann Arbor. On the other hand, I studied and worked as a 
clinical psychologist as though I were no different from my lay colleagues. 
As a Jesuit I could have said that God can be found in all things, but I did 
not make the connection to my life as a psychologist. 

According to Ignatian spirituality, God is always active in the 
world, always drawing people into a relationship of intimacy and commu- 
nity. Yet it never occurred to me to expect that my colleagues in psychology 
would want to discuss religious issues or that my clients, who revealed many 
intimate details of their inner lives, would speak of experiences of God in 
psychotherapy. Not even two conversations with a Jewish professor trained 
in psychoanalysis in Europe made a difference in my practice. In one 
conversation he told me that many of his patients began to bring up reli- 
gious matters in therapy sessions once he had come to terms with his own 
religious background. In an- 
other discussion he told me — — ^^— ^ — — — 
that religious issues often did < Tm a j esuit hecause this is where 

not surface in psychotherapy Qod wam m£ tQ y e ^ wben God 

because or the therapist s own » r .», 7 7 . _. . „ 

. .. r ., .. knows I will be happiest. 

resistance to dealing with reli- 
gion. I agreed with him, but ^ — — — 
neither of these discussions 

had any effect on my practice of psychotherapy. None of my clients ever 
brought up religious issues. It was as though I myself had an unconscious 
bias against religion, at least in psychotherapy sessions. In my psyche, 
religion and counseling were neatly compartmentalized. The com- 
partmentalization was like a hermetic seal that kept any mention of religion 
from seeping into the realm of counseling or psychotherapy. 

Indeed, even when I left Ann Arbor and began to practice counsel- 
ing and psychotherapy with Jesuits and others studying for the priesthood at 
Weston Jesuit School of Theology, none of them spoke of their religious 
experiences in sustained weekly and twice- weekly counseling sessions that 
touched on very intimate details of their lives. That is a measure of how far 
I was from living out my so-called belief that God can be found in all things. 
I was living in a compartmentalized world. Once again, I note how my 
upbringing as a Jesuit had not prepared me to give sufficient attention to a 
central dictum of Ignatian spirituality and to apply it to my work as a 

22 * William A. Barry, SJ. 

Recovering Ignatian Spirituality 

This state of hermetic compartmentalization might have gone on for 
a long time had it not happened that in the fall of 1970 the New- 
England Province began training sessions to give the Spiritual 
Exercises to individuals. During the first of these weekend training sessions, I 
realized that I could use the clinical skills I had learned at the University of 
Michigan to help people to talk of experiences of God. Not only that. I 
began to take my own experiences of God more seriously. As a result of 
these sessions, I made my first individually directed retreat in the spring of 
1971 and began to direct retreats for individuals that summer. I also began to 
see a spiritual director regularly and to try to tell him, and later her, the 
truth about my life and experience. 

For the first time, I began to take seriously the notion that Jesus is 
interested in my experience and to talk with him about some of the inner 
turmoil of being in love, not just to accuse myself of being less than perfect 
or a sinner but to let him know what was going on and to ask his help. 
Around this time my friend, who had left her religious congregation, told 

me that she had met a man who was very 
attractive to her. I was deeply shaken. On 

In the yean since the late J he °" e J han , d ' wi , th m ^ ^ad \ co f d ac ' 

. . . r .. j knowledge the Tightness or this for her; on 

sixties, we Jesuits have , i i « ■ T 

, J , r , the other hand, my heart was torn. I 

recovered much from the r A • » . „. jlj 

J round it hard to concentrate and had some 

Ignatian tradition. sleepless nights. I talked with my spiritual 

director (he also happened to be my rec- 
tor), who suggested that I pray for healing. 
With this suggestion in mind, I used the story of the two blind men in Matt. 
9:27-31. When I read the words, "Do you believe that I am able to do this?" 
I knew that I could be healed of my turmoil if I said yes, but I also became 
aware that I did not really want to be healed. To be healed, it seemed to my 
conflicted heart, meant to lose my friend. Of course, in reality the only way 
I could keep the friendship was to allow myself to be healed of the selfish 
side of my love. At the time, however, I could only ask Jesus to give me the 
desire to be healed. Which, in time, he did give me. As a result, I was healed 
and was able to preside a couple of years later at my friend's wedding and to 
become friends with her new family. I had learned, finally, how to engage in 
a personal relationship with Jesus that was honest, at least as honest as I 
could be at any time. In addition, I discovered that honesty was the best 
policy with my spiritual director and rector. 

Pasty Present, and Future •$• 23 

During that first training weekend on the directed retreat, a group 
of us began to talk about the possibility of starting a center for Ignatian 
spirituality, an idea that the province assembly had recommended to the 
provincial. Out of these conversations came the Center for Religious Devel- 
opment, which opened its doors in Cambridge, Mass., in 1971. Our mission, 
approved by the provincial, was to do research on Ignatian spiritual direc- 
tion, to train spiritual directors, and to give spiritual direction. In our 
training program we used all the clinical skills we had learned through 
supervised training in other fields as well as a renewed understanding of 
Ignatian spirituality to help people to talk about religious experience, or 
what I later came to call the religious dimension of human experience. 21 
Among other products of our research was The Practice of Spiritual Direction, 
which has become one of the staples in training programs for spiritual 
directors and which has been translated into six languages. 22 The hermetic 
seal that kept religious experiences insulated from other human experiences 
had been permanently broken. 23 

In the years since the late sixties, we Jesuits have recovered much 
from the Ignatian tradition. The Center for Religious Development had a 
hand in these recoveries, and I often thank God that the center has been of 
such benefit. The main recovery, I believe, was not individual direction of 
the Spiritual Exercises, as important as that was for what followed. After all, 
one can direct an individual in much the same way that one directed hun- 
dreds, by giving points for each period of the day to the individual without 
much attention to what has happened during the previous twenty-four 
hours. I suspect that this has happened, especially in the early days. 

The Fifteenth Introductory Explanation 

What we have recovered is the meaning of the fifteenth annotation, 
found in the "Introductory Explanation" of the Exercises. In this annotation 
Ignatius writes that the director should not urge the person making the 

21 See William A. Barry, Spiritual Direction and the Encounter with God: A 
Theological Inquiry (New York/Mahwah: Paulist, 1992). 

22 William A. Barry and William J. Connolly, The Practice of Spiritual Direction 
(New York: Seabury, 1982; now published by Harper/Collins). 

23 In 1999 I was invited to give a lecture as part of the celebration of seventy-five 
years of Catholic chaplaincy at the University of Michigan. I chose as my title "How 
Freudian Theory and Practice and Religion, Finally, Kissed and Made Up in One Man's 
Practice." I spoke of the compartmentalization of my life and its demise. The next day I 
was invited to a seminar of graduate students in clinical psychology to discuss religion and 

24 * William A. Barry, SJ. 

Exercises toward one decision or another. In other circumstances the direc- 
tor could give advice and even urge a person to make a certain decision. 
"But," he writes, 

during these Spiritual Exercises when a person is seeking God's will, it is 
more appropriate and far better that the Creator and Lord himself should 
communicate himself to the devout soul, embracing it in love and praise, 
and disposing it for the way which will enable the soul to serve him better 
in the future. Accordingly, the one giving the Exercises ought not to lean 
or incline in either direction but rather, while standing by like the pointer 
of a scale in equilibrium, to allow the Creator to deal immediately with the 
creature and the creature with its Creator and Lord. (no. 15) 

Ignatius believed that, at least while a person was making the Spiritual 
Exercises, God would deal directly with him or her. In other words, Ignatius 
believed that God was actively interested in the person who took the time 
to make these Exercises. We have recovered the Ignatian conviction that 
God communicates directly to the individual who makes the Exercises. 

Let us not underestimate the importance of this recovery. It was 
precisely this annotation that caused controversy not only in the early years 
but even after the founding of the Society. Ignatius was accused of being 
tainted with the heresy of the "alumbrados" because he assumed that God 
would communicate directly with the person making the Exercises, and also 
having fallen into the heresy of the Lutherans because he forbade the 
director from advocating the vowed life of poverty, chastity, and obedience 
during the Exercises. 24 

Before the recovery of the meaning of this introductory explanation, 
most of us, I believe, operated with a similar suspicion of "individual inspira- 
tion." We depended much more on external signs and on blind obedience to 
authority. To give one example, my friend from Holy Cross, whose applica- 
tion to the Society motivated me to apply and who entered with me on the 
same day, suffered from severe migraine headaches, almost from the begin- 
ning of his time in the novitiate. He wanted to leave the novitiate and later 
the Society, but was repeatedly told that he had all the external signs of a 
vocation. While I was in Germany studying philosophy, I learned all this 
from a letter he wrote me telling of his decision to leave the Society. He 
revealed that he had almost come to hate God for forcing him to remain a 
Jesuit. Only now, some six or seven years after his entrance, had he met a 
wise Jesuit who helped him to decide that God was not asking him to bear 
this terrible burden. 

24 See John W. O'Malley, The First Jesuits (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 
1993), 43f. 

Pasty Present, and Future •!• 25 

The Variety of Prayer Forms 

We also recovered the riches of the prayer forms contained in the 
Spiritual Exercises. Meditation was only one of these forms. What was 
especially helpful to me was the discovery that the kind of imaginative 
contemplation recommended in the Exercises did not require a pictorial 
imagination. If I could read the Gospels and feel for the characters and let 
these characters take on a life for me, even if I could not picture them, then 
I was contemplating in the Ignatian way. God communicates to each of us 
according to our own imaginations and our own past histories. Prayer 
became much more like a personal relationship in which there was "give and 
take" between the Lord and me. In fact, it became clear to me and others 
that God desires a personal relationship with every human being, desires to 
draw us into his own inner Trinitarian life. Prayer lost its utilitarian pur- 
pose. If prayer is a personal relationship, I pray because I want to relate to 
the Lord, not in order to become a better person or to save the world. Of 
course, if I do engage honestly in this relationship, I will become a better 
person and will become a coworker with the Lord in this world. 

Adaptation to the Individual 

With this step we were able to recover another aspect of Ignatian 
spirituality, namely, the need to take individuals as they are, not as we (and 
they) wish they were. When I had contemplated the healing of the two 
blind men of Matt. 9:27-31, I thought that I desired to be healed. I found out 
that I could not, at that time, honestly say that I desired healing. I could 
only desire the desire. If prayer is a personal relationship, then each such 
relationship will be different because each person is unique. 

In the early 1970s, during a workshop on giving the Spiritual 
Exercises, we were presented with a fictitious case that turned out to be 
based on the life of Blessed Pierre Favre, one of Ignatius's first companions 
in Paris. Pierre was a man beset by scruples and depressive tendencies when 
Ignatius first met him. He waited four years before giving Pierre the full 
Spiritual Exercises. Ignatius had to work hard with Pierre to help him 
develop an image of God more in keeping with reality. Developing such an 
internal image of God-and-self in relation cannot be done purely through 
instruction in theology; it has to come through experience. In other words, 
Ignatius seems to have worked with Pierre over that period of years to help 
him experience God as a loving creator rather than a frightening ogre. Thus 
Ignatius acted as a spiritual director or pastoral counselor, enabling Pierre to 
have a foundational experience of God as the One who creates the universe 

26 * William A. Barry, S.J. 

and Pierre out of love, in order to invite him into a relationship of intimacy 
with God. The case study based on Pierre helped us reflect on the criteria 
for readiness to make the full Spiritual Exercises and on the means to assist 
people like Pierre to become ready. Thus, as we realized how different 
people were in their interior attitude? to God, we began to tailor the 
Exercises to their needs, as Ignatius must have done with Pierre. This 
demonstrates most convincingly why it is important to work closely with 

The Role of Desires 

This discovery led us to pay more careful attention to what retreat- 
ants really desire. That is, we began to take seriously what "id quod volo" 
means. I now regularly ask, "What do you want?" before suggesting any 
material for prayer. I presume that honest desires are what Ignatius intends 
when he advises retreatants to ask for what they want during the second or 

third prelude to each period of prayer. 

When directors engage in a conversation 

We pay attention to the f* retreatants, they have a chance to 

i j . r nnd out what retreatants really want. In 

real desires of retreatants , , ,. , , . . 

r , r T J , , tact, such directors have a chance to help 

and help them to be hon- .. ♦ * * j . l . *u n 

* retreatants nnd out what they really want, 

est With the Lord about as the conversat ion with my spiritual di- 

what they want. rector helped me realize thal t did not de _ 

sire healing, but, at best, desired to desire 
to be healed. Before his foundational expe- 
rience of God's love for him, warts and 
all, Pierre Favre could hardly have wanted a close relationship with a God 
who seemed to be plaguing him for his sins. When we deal with individuals 
in spiritual direction or in an Ignatian retreat, we help them become aware 
of the ambivalence and multivalence of their desires. One may want to 
know Jesus better, but one may also be afraid of the consequences of that 

Recently, at a Newman Club on the campus of a large state univer- 
sity, I gave a talk on prayer as a personal relationship. At the end of the 
talk, a social-science professor was bold enough to say that he desired a 
closer relationship with God, but avoided it because he knew that God 
would ask him to do something that he did not want to do. In a moment of 
inspiration I said, "Why don't you tell God that you don't want to do it?" 
His reply was an incredulous, "Can I do that?" My response: "It's a relation- 
ship, isn't it? Relationships only develop when we can be honest with the 
other person about our desires." 

Pasty Present, and Future •!• 27 

We pay attention to the real desires of retreatants and help them to 
be honest with the Lord about what they want. The assumption, of course, 
is that God's own desire for a personal relationship awakens in each of us a 
correlative desire. As Sebastian Moore writes, "God's creative desire, which 
brings us into and keeps us in existence, creates in us a desire for 'we know 
not what.' " 25 Thus, in the recovery of the importance and the meaning of 
the "id quod volo," we discovered that Ignatian spirituality presumes that in 
each person there is an inborn desire for closeness to God, which seems to 
run counter to what books such as Leen's Progress through Mental Prayer of 
my formation days seem to assume. The task of pastoral care is to help 
people become fully aware of this deepest desire of their hearts. True 
enough, our hearts are ambivalent, but they are not by nature totally 
alienated from spirituality. Moreover, we can now comprehend the source of 
the energy of the early Jesuits and the enthusiasm they engendered in so 
many. They believed that everyone was being attracted by God. "The Jesuits 
. . . expected the manifestation of God's presence within the soul to be 
accessible, in some degree, to all human beings. According to the Constitu- 
tions, the Jesuit minister was himself nothing more than 'an instrument' 
united with God, in God's hand." 26 There is an optimism in Ignatian 
spirituality that was not so evident in my early training. 

The Discernment of Spirits 

Concomitant with the recovery of the self-communication of God 
while making of the Spiritual Exercises, we have recovered the importance 
of the discernment of spirits. When external criteria are the predominant 
means of making decisions and no one expects God to communicate directly 
to ordinary people, there is no need of discernment of movements of the 
heart. At most, as we learned in the course on spiritual and mystical theol- 
ogy, discernment of spirits was to be used, by experts, of course, in cases of 
people who were far along the mystical path. But if God is communicating 
directly to people, they are immediately faced with having to determine 
which experiences are God's communication. As soon as people begin to pay 
attention to their experiences in prayer, they realize that they have a kalei- 
doscope of inner reactions. We have come to realize that Ignatius had such 

25 See Sebastian Moore, Let This Mind Be in You: The Quest for Identity through 
Oedipus to Christ (Minneapolis: Winston Press, 1985). The desire for "we know not whit" 
is given the name "Joy" by C. S. Lewis in his autobiographical memoir, Surprised by Joy: 
The Shape of My Early Life (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1955). In this book Lewis shows 
that this desire is for God. 

26 O'Malley, First Jesuits, 83f. 

28 4* William A. Barry, SJ. 

experiences in mind when he formulated the rules for discernment for the 
First and Second Weeks of the Exercises. Gradually we came to undtrstand 
that these rules apply to our ordinary experiences when we take seriously 
the presupposition of the Exercises, namely, that God wants a personal 
relationship with us. 

The Account of Conscience 

With these recoveries of the tradition, we were well on the road to 
recovering the tensions inherent in Jesuit spirituality. The account of 
conscience once again took on significance. Superiors wanted to know the 
interior lives of their men not only to help them with their own spiritual 
lives but also to decide what would be appropriate apostolic assignments for 
them. Superiors wanted to know their subjects' attitudes toward various 
possible assignments and their experiences during prayer. This was a heady 
experience for most Jesuits, but one that discomfited some who believed that 
the older style of governance defined Jesuit obedience. One heard laments 
such as, "The provincial asked me what I wanted to do. Why doesn't he just 
tell me what to do? That's what Jesuit obedience is all about." Given the 
training we received in Jesuit obedience, such a reaction is understandable. 
However, in our present circumstances it is relatively unheard of that 
someone finds himself assigned to a work without any prior conversation 
about that assignment. We have recovered something of the Ignatian vision 
of the ideal account of conscience. 

In the "General Examen" Ignatius explains to postulants why the 
account of conscience is so important in the Society. Jesuits, Ignatius writes, 
must be ready to travel to any part of the world if missioned; furthermore, 
he writes, 

to proceed without error in such missions, or in sending some persons and 
not others, or some for one task and others for different ones, it is not only 
highly but even supremely important that the superior have complete 
knowledge of the inclinations and motions of those who are in his charge, 
and to what defects or sins they have been or are more moved and inclined, 
so that thus he may direct them better, without placing them beyond the 
measure of their capacity in dangers or labors greater than they could in 
our Lord endure with a spirit of love; and also so that the superior, while 
keeping to himself what he learns in secret, may be better able to organize 
and arrange what is expedient for the whole body of the Society. 27 

27 Constitutions, no. 92 (p. 43). 

Pasty Present, and Future •!• 29 

In other words, because our apostolic activity can take us into difficult and 
dangerous places and because we are so different in our personalities and 
psychic and spiritual maturity, superiors need to know their men in depth in 
order to make good assignments. 

I thank God that I learned to trust superiors with my inner life. As 
my episode of being deeply in love was drawing to an end, I had occasion to 
speak with my provincial about my inner life; and this conversation helped 
him to make a decision about 

me that was definitely bene- ^ _ ..^^.^ _ 
ficial both for me and for the 

Society and the apostolate. If For Z ood or * we are immersed in a 
we had not had that conversa- multicultural and interconnected 

tion, he might have given me world. 

an assignment that could have ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
been harmful to all concerned. 

Where the account of conscience works well, the Society is not only gov- 
erned well but individuals and the apostolic work prosper. In the course of 
the recovery of the account of conscience, by the way, we have also discov- 
ered how important Ignatius's directives on the quality of lovableness in 
superiors are. We more easily entrust ourselves to men whom we perceive as 
genuine human beings. 

Turning Forward with Love 

With the recovery of these traditional marks of Jesuit spirituality, 
we are in a good position to face the unknown future and to 
assist our Church and world to do the same. The tensions of our 
spirituality seem to be tailor-made for our present predicament if we have 
the faith and trust and nerve to live our spirituality authentically. We take 
to heart the second part of Horn Chips's advice to Crazy Horse: 

"I think we will not see the new way," Horn Chips said. "I think it 
will not become visible for seven generations. In that time the hoop of the 
people will seem to be broken, and the flowering tree will seem to be 
withered. But after seven generations some will see with the single eye that 
is the heart, and the new way will appear. . . . 

"The old way is beautiful. We turn backward to it and in taking leave 
we offer it our love. Then we turn forward and walk forth blindly, offering 
our love. Yes, blindly." 

The cultures my contemporaries and I grew up in are irretrievably gone. 
The tendency to isolation from surrounding cultures that marked the United 

30 + William A. Barry, S.J. 


States, the Roman Catholic Church, and the Society of Jesus in my early 
years is no more. For good or ill, we are immersed in a multicultural and 
interconnected world. Events in Saudi Arabia or Tokyo or Rio de Janeiro 
are now felt in the pocketbooks of ordinary citizens of the United States. 
The Second Vatican Council was the first truly global ecumenical council of 
the Catholic Church, and more and more people experience the universality 
of the Church at the local level. It has been noted that the Society's general 
congregations have also become global only since Vatican II. In this new 
world situation, it is not yet clear what political, economic, and even 
religious institutions and structures are best suited to meet the challenges 
that face us. Our spirituality, I believe, can help not only us but also many 
others in the search for the new way that is needed in our time. 

On a few occasions when I was provincial, I told members of the 
province that we are now in a situation where our "alleged trust in God" is 
being put to the test. 28 When I entered the Society, "belief" was relatively 
easy. The Church and the Society were growing at an unprecedented rate. 
Novitiates and seminaries were teeming and new ones were being built. 
Catholic churches and schools, both colleges and universities, were booming. 
We could have been putting our trust in these institutions rather than in 
God. In the aftermath of the cultural revolutions of the past thirty-five 
years, all this has changed. Now we do have a chance to put our alleged 
trust in God to the test. The recovery of our spirituality has come at a 
providential time. 

Let me state my own answers to the five worldview questions with 
the hope that they may express our best stance as we move into the new 
century with trust that we are called by God to be part of his solution to 
the crisis of our times. Who are we? We are Roman Catholic companions of 
Jesus. Where are we? We are in God's world, the whole of it our home. 
What's the problem? Our cultural maps no longer are accurate; we are beset 
by conflicts in our world, our country, our Church, and our own Society. 
What's the solution? Our spirituality is a privileged means of finding the 
way of the risen Jesus for our time. What time is it? A time of crisis for our 

We often read and hear that we are in a postmodern era. Moder- 
nity, the world that sustained the European and North American way of life 
since the Industrial Revolution, has run its course. We are faced with a 


I quote this from something I read in Carl Jung's writings years ago, but I 
cannot trace its source. 

Pasty Present, and Future 4* 3 1 

thoroughly new situation. Postmodernity is in the process of replacing 
modernity, with devastating effects on our understanding of knowledge and 
truth, the self, and the story we tell ourselves. 29 

Knowledge and Truth Whereas modernity believed we could know the 

world objectively, postmodernity has denied that 
there is such a thing as objective knowledge; all knowledge, all values, are 
glimpsed through the biased point of view of the knower. Virtual reality 
symbolizes for us that everyone creates his own private world. 

The Self Modernity took pride in the self-made individual, the person as 
master of his or her fate. Postmodernity sees the "I" as "just a 
floating signifier, a temporary and accidental collocation of conflicting forces 
and impulses" (15 If.). 

The Story We Tell Ourselves Modernity's overarching story (its 

metanarrative) was the myth of indefinite 
progress. In this story the industrial revolution was the aim of evolution, the 
time of prosperity for all people. This 

overarching story . . . has now been conclusively shown to be an oppres- 
sive, imperialist and self-serving story; it has brought untold misery to 
millions in the industrialized West and to billions in the rest of the world, 
where cheap labor and raw materials have been ruthlessly exploited. It is a 
story that serves the interests of the Western world. Postmodernity has 
claimed . . . that all metanarratives are suspect; they are all power games. (152) 

Let us make no mistake: we Christians and Jesuits of the Western World 
bought heavily into this overarching story with its arrogant assumption of 
superiority over other cultures. 

We who stand in the Judeo-Christian tradition are in a good 
position to read the signs of our times. The prophets told Israel that the 
cataclysmic events of the destruction of the Temple and the exile to Babylon 
were God's judgment on Israel's infidelity to the Covenant. So too, we can 
see the cultural revolutions of our time as God's judgment on our infidelity 
as Christians of the Western World to the New Covenant. But it is not a 
judgment that comes from without, through a new divine intervention into 
our history; rather it is a judgment from within. The seeds of the destruc- 
tion of modernity were planted when our forebears, who believed, correctly 
perhaps, that they were God's chosen instruments for the salvation of the 
world, got the means wrong and proceeded to live out this vocation by 

29 For these ideas and those that follow I am indebted to N. T. Wright, The 
Challenge of Jesus: Rediscovering Who Jesus Was and Is (Downers Grove, 111.: InterVarsity 
Press, 1999). 


William A. Barry, S.J. 

-:v- :: i : ::#5i^^ 

using their superior technology and weaponry to subdue "inferior cultures. " 
The seeds were sown when Christians followed the conquering armies and 
proceeded to Christianize the world by making the new Christians into 
copies of European and American Christians. The seeds were sown, in other 
words, when Western Christians forgot the story of God introduced into the 
world by Jesus, the story of a self-emptying God whose only weapon was 
self-sacrificing love and whose symbol is the cross. 

Given this cultural revolution, what are we to do? We could, as did 
the Israelites in the desert, hanker for the leeks and onions of Egypt, that is, 
for "the good old days." We could, on the other hand, embrace wholeheart- 
edly the tenets of postmodernity as the Israelites embraced the gods of their 
neighbors in the time of the Judges (see Judg. 2:11-13). Both attitudes are 
present among us and, perhaps, in each of us. Let me explain the latter 
remark. I have sensed in myself the kind of anxiety about lost certitudes that 

could lead to a desire to turn the clock 
-___.---_--_-_— ^_ back. I have also sensed in myself the kind 

of doubts about the truth of any belief 
that could lead to the skepticism and cyni- 
cism that seem to pervade postmodern 
thought. These inner states are, I believe, 
to be expected in a time of cultural up- 
heaval. However, neither nostalgia nor 
— — ^^— ^^^^^^^^^^— cultural idolatry helped the Israelites, and 

they will not help us and lead us forward. 
We are a people who believe that with the life, death, and resurrection of 
Jesus of Nazareth, God has definitively entered this world and is working 
out its salvation. We need to trust that revelation and walk forward with 
love, even if blindly. God's Spirit is in the world, yearning to lead us 
forward to the promised land. 

I believe that the recovery of an authentic Jesuit spirituality is 
providential. Our spirituality brims with optimism because it believes that 
God is ingredient in this world after the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus 
and the outpouring of God's Spirit. It believes that this Spirit is operative in 
the hearts of men and women. At the same time, the optimism it fosters is 
not naive: it lives in tension with the knowledge that we can be deceived 
and can deceive ourselves. Ignatius urged his followers to use all the human 
means their ingenuity and intelligence could provide in order to become 
discerning, a process that in our day means also to be philosophically and 
historically critical. We do not have to be rendered timid by the postmodern 
critique that makes everything relative. Even those who are not naively 

We do not have to be ren- 
dered timid by the post- 
modern critique that 
makes everything relative. 

Pasty Present, and Future <b 33 

uncritical thinkers can embrace Christianity's story, its metanarrative. 30 
Discernment is necessary, and in our spirituality we have the tools for such 
discernment. The discernment of spirits will help discipline our hearts, so 
that we can see with the single eye which is the heart. 31 In addition, Ignatian 
spirituality avoids naivete by taking seriously the existence of the "enemy of 
human nature," the evil spirit who tries to draw us away from God's 
designs. Both modernity and postmodernity tend to downplay his existence. 
Here again we find that a healthy Jesuit spirituality is tensive; it can hold in 
tension both great optimism and a healthy dose of realism, avoiding naivete 
on the one hand and excessive skepticism on the other. 

Here on Earth, where the great world religions lie along the fault 
lines that threaten world order, intercultural and interreligious dialogue is 
desperately needed. 32 The recovery of our spirituality comes to our aid here. 
Just as we have recovered the apostolate of conversation, which is the 
individual direction of people through the Spiritual Exercises and through 
spiritual direction, we can, as did the early Jesuits, expand this apostolate 
and engage many more people in dialogue about their experiences. John 
O'Malley remarks on the ubiquity of the phrase "helping souls" in the 
writings of the early Jesuits. 

By "souls" Jesuits meant the whole person. Thus they could help souls in a 
number of ways, for instance, by providing food for the body or learning 
for the mind. That is why their list of ministries was so long, why at first 
glance it seems to be without limits. No doubt, however, the Jesuits 
primarily wanted to help the person achieve an ever better relationship 
with God. They sought to be mediators of an immediate experience of God 
that would lead to an inner change of heart or a deepening of religious 
sensibilities already present. With varying degrees of clarity, that purpose 
shines through all they wrote and said as the ultimate goal they had in 
mind when they spoke of helping souls. 33 

Jesuits developed the art of spiritual conversation as one of their consueta 
ministeria, their ordinary ministries. We might develop this art for our day, 
trusting that God is in some way touching the lives of everyone we meet if 

30 For an example of such critical thinking, see N. T. Wright, Christian Origins 
and the Question of God: vol. 1, The New Testament and the People of God; vol. 2, Jesus and 
the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992, 1996). 

31 In Spiritual Direction and the Encounter with God: A Tljeological Inquiry (New 
York/Mahwah: Paulist, 1992), chap. 6, I have argued that the tools of Ignatian 
discernment are made to order for our modern situation. 

32 See Samuel P. Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of 
World Order (New York: Touchstone Books, 1997). 

"O'Malley, First Jesuits, 18f. 

34 * William A. Barry, SJ. 

only he or she would pay attention. In a word, our spirituality asks us to 
trust our own experience of God's saving and life-giving activity and to 
expect that others have similar or analogous experiences. Conversation about 
such experiences can lead to the development of deep friendships and open 
both parties in the dialogue to a deeper and richer grasp of the Mystery we 
call God. In addition, talking about such experiences can bridge the chasm 
that seems to yawn between people of different religions. 34 

Insofar as we have allowed the dynamic of the Spiritual Exercises to 
touch our hearts, we have experienced God in dark periods as well as in 
happy moments, have experienced the darkness of sin and confusion and 
have there found God bringing light and direction, have come to know and 
love Jesus and to desire to be with him on mission, have grieved and ago- 
nized with Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane and at Golgotha, have 
experienced our "hearts burning" as we encountered Jesus risen. Our spiritu- 
ality invites us to expect that other Christians can and do have similar 
experiences and to converse with them to discover more of what God is 
doing right now to show the Church the new way. As Jesuits, we are men 
who love and respect the Church but who are adults in this Church. 
Because of the tensive nature of our spirituality we not only expect God to 
speak through the hierarchical Church but also through the experience of all 
the people of God. I believe that our spirituality is God's gift to the Church 
and to the world of our day, just as it was in Ignatius's turbulent times. 
Those times, too, experienced a cultural revolution, and the people of God 
discovered in Ignatian spirituality significant help to find the new way God 
was disclosing. So in our day, I believe, this same tensive spirituality can 
help the Church to discern the new way. That is, to use Horn Chips's 
words, our spirituality can and does help people to "see with the single eye 
that is the heart." 35 

Near the end of The Challenge of Jesus, N. T. Wright invites his 
readers into what I would call a contemplative reading of the story of Jesus' 
appearance to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. He sets the scene 
by reminding the reader of Israel's overarching story, as expressed in Psalms 
42 and 43 read as a unit. Here, the psalmist remembers the joys of experienc- 
ing God in the Temple now that he is far from the Temple and beset by 

34 GC 34 has urged all Jesuits to engage in such intercultural and interreligious 
dialogue. For an example of such dialogue, see Francis Clooney, "In Ten Thousand Places, 
in Every Blade of Grass," STUDIES IN THE SPIRITUALITY OF JESUITS 28, no. 3 (May 1996). 

33 See William A. Barry, "Discernment and Obedience: Finding God's Will and 
Staying Roman Catholic," in God's Passionate Desire and Our Response (Notre Dame, Ind.: 
Ave Maria Press, 1993), 129-34. 

Past, Present, and Future <fr 35 

enemies. He cries out in agony that he and Israel have been bereft of God's 
Presence. Yet he still has hope, because of what God has done in the past to 
save Israel. As a result he can pray with heartfelt emotion: "O send out your 
light and your truth; let them lead me; let them bring me to your holy hill 
and to your dwelling. Then I will go to the altar of God, to God my 
exceeding joy; and I will praise you with the harp, O God, my God" (Ps. 

In Jesus' day this psalm would have expressed the hope of the 
Israelites that God would come, and come soon, to deliver them from their 
enemies. The story Israel told itself expressed this hope, but that story 
included within itself the coming of God and the Messiah as successful 
warriors who would lead the people to an armed victory over their enemies 
and thus bring peace to the 

world. The two disciples on ^ — ^— — ^ — 
the road to Emmaus had As Jesuits, we are men who love and 

hoped that Jesus was this Mes- respect the Church hut who are 

siah, but instead he had been aduhs {n thh church. 

crucified, as had every other 

would-be Messiah of the time, -^ ^ — , ^^^^~^^^^~ 
and thus had proved to be a 

false Messiah. "We had hoped ..." As they walk along in desolation, they 
are joined by a stranger who retells the story of Israel in such a way that the 
very thing that seemed to have been the defeat of Israel's hopes is the 
victory of God. Wright invites his readers to interpret this story in our 
present context with the shipwreck of our hopes staring us in the face. In 
this world where the story of inevitable progress through the ingenuity of 
human beings seems to have reached a dead end, we are asked to allow the 
risen Jesus to meet us as the stranger who will set our hearts on fire. With 
this contemplative reading of the Emmaus story, Wright acts like an Ignatian 
director. Again we can see how our spirituality is a gift for this time of crisis 
and of challenge. 

As I end this essay, I invite readers to make this contemplation of 
the Emmaus story. Many of us have experienced the loss of the Society we 
entered, because the culture that supported so many of its traditions and 
customs collapsed. In addition, we have experienced the loss of the Catholic 
Church that we knew, again because the culture that supported so many of 
its traditions and customs collapsed. We have also suffered the loss of the 
United States we knew, again because the culture that supported its tradi- 
tions collapsed. As we allow these losses to enter our hearts and minds and 
imaginations, we might feel something akin to what the two disciples on the 
road to Emmaus felt. "We had hoped . . ." Many of our fellow wayfarers 

36 •$• William A. Barry, S J. 

feel lost in this new world. Some are angry and feel betrayed by the changes 
they encountered. Some are angry that more changes have not occurred in 
our country, our Church, and in the Society of Jesus. All of us are confused 
and are hoping to find our way. We can identify with all we meet. And we 
can offer our gifts, the heritage of our spirituality and our trust and hope in 
the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God's Spirit will show us the 

"[S]ome will see with the single eye that is the heart, and the new way 
will appear." 

He looked directly at Crazy Horse. "The old way is beautiful. We turn 
backward to it and in taking leave we offer it our love. Then we turn 
forward and walk forth blindly, offering our love. Yes, blindly." 



The Maturing of Our Minds in Christ 

The Society of St. John the Evangelist (S.S.J.E.), sometimes popularly called the "Cowley 
Fathers," from Cowley near Oxford, where the order was founded in 1865 by the 
Reverend Richard Meux Benson, is the oldest religious order of men within the Anglican 
Communion. Over a period of eight years, the members of the American congregation of 
the Society in a process of religious discernment created a new and contemporary version 
of its rule and formally adopted it in 1996. The passage printed here is the whole of 
chapter 41 of that rule, "The Maturing of Our Minds in Christ. " It may prove a thought- 
provoking and fruitful experience to read a brief portion of the rule of a religious 
congregation of another Christian church. This is especially true in the light of the 
elaboration of our own "revised legislation particular to the Society of Jesus as a religious 
order in the Church" in the annotated Constitutions and the Complementary Norms. 
In addition, there have been personal ties of friendship and mutual support between some 
members of the Society of Jesus at Weston School of Theology in Cambridge and some 
members of the Society of St. John the Evangelist at their house, also in Cambridge, a few 
blocks from Weston. 


V^xur pursuit of knowledge is an ex- 
pression of love for God's world and the 
riches of revelation. As we bring our 
gifts of imagination and intellect to ma- 
turity we are able to glorify God more 
and more. Since our gifts and ministries 
vary we need to encourage one another 
to value not only reading and study but 
many other ways of learning, every 
method that helps us become more re- 
sponsive in heart and mind to the whole 
creation. As our faith matures we come 
to recognize Christ's hidden presence 
everywhere: "All things have been cre- 
ated through him and for him. He him- 
self is before all things, and in him all 
things hold together." 

We cannot fulfill our mission with- 
out a lifelong engagement with the rich- 
es of Scripture and the Christian tradi 

tion. We need therefore to encourage 
and train one another to explore this 
great tradition firsthand. It is important 
to absorb classics of Christian spiritual- 
ity and theology, and valuable for each 
of us to develop a personal interest in 
certain schools, periods, or figures to 
which we might be specially drawn. We 
need knowledge of other faiths, and a 
sound grasp of religious history to 
which good biographies have given rich- 
ness and color. 

The Spirit calls us to be alert and 
open to our own time. Some of us will 
be drawn to contemporary explorations 
of theology and spirituality and engage 
in studies that throw light on the chang 
es now taking place in the world. Our 
aim is to maintain a lively, inter- 
est in the cultures in which we are situ- 





ated, and seek to expand our perspec- 
tives globally so that we can empathize 
with other societies and religious tradi- 

All our ministries, whether of 
preaching, teaching, or personal encoun- 
ter in the Spirit, call for a penetrating 
understanding of the mysteries of the 
heart and human relationships. For this 
we need many resources. Psychology 
and the human sciences are sources of 
insight, and some of us will find in liter- 
ature, philosophy, drama, film, music, 
dance, and the visual arts springs of vital 
truth if we approach them keenly in the 

We commit ourselves to maintain- 
ing ample libraries in each house as well 
as devoting funds for further education 
and the enrichment of the imagination. 
The community is to hold regular 
events of corporate education so that 
our learning can be a shared experience. 
Individual commitment to learning in a 
disciplined way is equally essential. 
Study does not have the same attraction 
for all of us, and even those who enjoy 
it find that the pressure of other respon- 

sibilities distracts them. Unless we grasp 
the truth that it is both a labor of love 
and a spiritual discipline, we are likely 
to neglect study. We should therefore 
support one another in regularly setting 
aside time for reading, and encourage 
one another to take advantage of oppor- 
tunities for training, enrichment, and 
further education. Our sense of common 
endeavor will be stimulated when we 
discuss with one another what we are 
learning and take a mutual interest in 
our discoveries. Our goal is to arrive at 
the maturity which enables us to plan 
our study so that it can be focused, regu- 
lar, and supported. We shall not often 
be able to reserve time for study every 
day, but each week should include it. 

(Copyright 1997 by The Society of 
St. John the Evangelist. All rights re- 
served. Reprinted from The Rule of the 
Society of St. John the Evangelist. Boston: 
Cowley Publications. The address of the 
publisher is 28 Temple Place, Boston, 
MA 02111. They can also be reached at 
www.Cowley.ORG or by telephone: 1- 
800- 225-1534). 


Dear Editor: 

I recently read Lisa Fullam's article 
"Juana S.J.: The Past (and Future?) Sta- 
tus of Women in the Society of Jesus" 
(STUDIES 31, no. 5). I was amazed at Fr. 
James Swetnam's response to the article 
that appeared as one of the Letters to 
the Editor in the subsequent issue of 
STUDIES (32, no. 1). Both the content 
and the tone of the letter are question- 

While it is the case that Fr. Swet- 
nam begins with saying that he is simply 
stating an opinion, Ms. Fullam's article 
deserves a more reasoned response than 
an opinion. She has written a serious 
piece of historical theology and has 
drawn some conclusions from her study 
of two events in the history of the Soci- 
ety of Jesus. The historical reasoning in 
the piece is careful and amply illustrates 
the difference between the Roser case 
and the Juana case. It is entirely possible 
for one to disagree with the conclusions 
she draws from her historical study, but 
then she deserves more than the throw- 
away line in Fr. Swetnam's letter stating, 
"Helping women to be Themselves by 
having them become Ours is radical but 
ill advised." One needs just as much 
counterargumentation to establish this 
claim as Ms. Fullam did to establish her 
own claims and conclusions. 

The second content issue has to do 
with Fr. Swetnam's plea for "rehabilitat- 
ing the word 'obedience' for our individ- 
ual and communal search for knowing 
and doing God's will." In order to have 
obedience, one must have one who 
obeys and one who commands. Fr. 
Swetnam makes a general accusation that 
someone is disobedient to someone who 
commands. One needs to identify the 
parties who command and disobey. 
Without this identification, no person or 
group of persons could possibly respond 
to the accusation. 

Finally, the tone of the letter as a 
whole is dismissive of too many people. 
Ms. Fullam is dismissed as someone who 
simply seeks to be herself. People who 
disagree with Fr. Swetnam are dismissed 
as disobedient. In the Society of Jesus 
we have procedures and documents that 
help us deal with controversial and im- 
portant issues. These procedures need to 
be invoked to discuss matters such as 
the relationship of women to the Soci- 
ety of Jesus and obedience in the Soci- 
ety. Vague condemnation is not suffi- 
cient when one deals with important 

John L. Treloar, S.J. 
Arrupe House Jesuit Community 
831 North Thirteenth Street 
Milwaukee, WI 53233-1706 


Past Issues: Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits 

(For prices, see inside back cover.) 

1/1 Sheets, Profile of the Contemporary Jesuit (Sept. 1969) 

1/2 Ganss, Authentic Spiritual Exercises: History and Terminology (Nov. 1969) 

2/1 Burke, Institution and Person (Feb. 1970) 

2/2 Futrell, Ignatian Discernment (Apr. 1970) 

2/3 Lonergan, Response of the Jesuit as Priest and Apostle (Sept. 1970) 

3/1 Wright, Grace of Our Founder and the Grace of Our Vocation (Feb. 1971) 

3/2 O'Flaherty, Some Reflections on Jesuit Commitment (Apr. 1971) 

3/4 Toner, A Method for Communal Discernment of God's Will (Sept. 1971) 

3/5 Sheets, Toward a Theology of the Religious Life (Nov. 1971) 

4/2 Two Discussions: I. Spiritual Direction, II. Leadership and Authority (Mar. 1972) 

4/3 Orsy, Some Questions about the Purpose and Scope of the General Congregation (June 1972) 

4/4 Ganss, Wright, O'Malley, O'Donovan, Dulles, On Continuity and Change: A Symposium 
(Oct. 1972) 

5/1-2 O'Flaherty, Renewal: Call and Response (Jan.-Mar. 1973) 

5/3 Arrupe, McNaspy, The Place of Art in Jesuit Life (Apr. 1973) 

5/4 Haughey, The Pentecostal Thing and Jesuits (June 1973) 

5/5 Orsy, Toward a Theological Evaluation of Communal Discernment {Oct. 1973) 

6/3 Knight, Joy and Judgment in Religious Obedience (Apr. 1974) 

7/1 Wright, Ganss, Orsy, On Thinking with the Church Today (Jan. 1975) 

7/2 Ganss, Christian Life Communities from the Sodalities (Mar. 1975) 

7/3 Connolly, Contemporary Spiritual Direction: Scope and Principles (June 1975) 

7/5 Buckley, The Confirmation of a Promise; Padberg, Continuity and Change in General 

Congregation XXXII (Nov. 1975) 

8/1 O'Neill, Acatamiento: Ignatian Reverence (Jan. 1976) 

8/2-3 De la Costa, Sheridan, and others, On Becoming Poor: A Symposium on Evangelical Poverty 
(Mar.-May 1976) 

8/4 Faricy, Jesuit Community: Community of Prayer {Oct. 1976) 

9/1-2 Becker, Changes in U.S. Jesuit Membership, 1958-75; Others, Reactions and Explanations 
(Jan.-Mar. 1977) 

9/4 Connolly, Land, Jesuit Spiritualities and the Struggle for Social Justice (Sept. 1977). 

9/5 Gill, A Jesuit's Account of Conscience (Nov. 1977) 

10/1 Kammer, "Burn-Out"— Dilemma for the Jesuit Social Activist (Jan. 1978) 

10/4 Harvanek, Status of Obedience in the Society of Jesus; Others, Reactions to Connolly-Land 

(Sept. 1978) 

11/1 Clancy, Feeling Bad about Feeling Good (Jan. 1979) 

11/2 Maruca, Our Personal Witness as Power to Evangelize Culture (Mar. 1979) 

11/3 Klein, American Jesuits and the Liturgy (May 1979) 

11/5 Conwell, The Kamikaze Factor: Choosing Jesuit Ministries (Nov. 1979) 

12/2 Henriot, Appleyard, Klein, Living Together in Mission: A Symposium on Small Apostolic 

Communities (Mar. 1980) 

12/3 Conwell, Living and Dying in the Society of Jesus (May 1980) 

12/4-5 Schineller, Newer Approaches to Christology and Their Use in the Spiritual Exercises (Sept.-Nov. 

13/1 Peter, Alcoholism in Jesuit Life Qan. 1981) 

13/3 Ganss, Towards Understanding the Jesuit Brothers' Vocation (May 1981) 

13/4 Reites, St. Ignatius of Loyola and the Jews (Sept. 1981) 

14/1 O'Malley, The Jesuits, St. Ignatius, and the Counter Reformation (Jan. 1982) 

14/2 Dulles, St. Ignatius and Jesuit Theological Tradition (Mar. 1982) 

14/4 Gray, An Experience in Ignatian Government (Sept. 1982) 

14/5 Ivern, The Future of Faith and Justice: Review of Decree Four (Nov. 1982) 

15/1 O'Malley, The Fourth Vow in Its Ignatian Context (Jan. 1983) 

15/2 Sullivan and Faricy, On Making the Spiritual Exercises for Renewal of Jesuit Charisms (Mar. 


i/3-4 Padberg, The Society True to Itself A Brief History of the 32nd General Congregation of the 

Society of Jesus (May-Sept. 1983) 

Tetlow, Jesuits' Mission in Higher Education (Nov. 1983-Jan. 1984) 

O'Malley, To Travel to Any Part of the World: Jeronimo Nodal and the Jesuit Vocation (Mar. 


16/3 O'Hanlon, Integration of Christian Practices: A Western Christian Looks East (May 1984) 

16/4 Carlson, "A Faith Lived Out of Doors": Ongoing Formation (Sept. 1984) 

16/5 Kinerk, Eliciting Great Desires: Their Place in the Spirituality of the Society of Jesus (Nov. 1984) 

17/1 Spohn, St. Paul on Apostolic Celibacy and the Body of Christ (Jan. 1985) 

17/2 Daley, "In Ten Thousand Places": Christian Universality and the Jesuit Mission (Mar. 1985) 

17/3 Tetlow, Dialogue on the Sexual Maturing of Celibates (May 1985) 

17/4 Spohn, Coleman, Clarke, Henriot, Jesuits and Peacemaking (Sept. 1985) 

17/5 Kinerk, When Jesuits Pray: A Perspective on the Prayer of Apostolic Persons (Nov. 1985) 

18/1 Gelpi, The Converting Jesuit (Jan. 1986). 

18/2 Beirne, Compass and Catalyst: The Ministry of Administration. (Mar. 1986) 

18/3 McCormick, Bishops as Teachers and Jesuits as Listeners (May 1986) 

18/5 Tetlow, The Transformation of Jesuit Poverty (Nov. 1986). 

19/1 Staudenmaier, United States Technology and Adult Commitment (Jan. 1987) 

19/2 Appleyard, Languages We Use: Talking about Religious Experience (Mar. 1987) 

19/5 Endean, Who Do You Say Ignatius Is? Jesuit Fundamentalism and Beyond (Nov. 1987) 

20/1 Brackley, Downward Mobility: Social Implications of St. Ignatius's Two Standards (Jan. 1988) 

20/2 Padberg, How We Live Where We Live (Mar. 1988) 

20/3 Hayes, Padberg, Staudenmaier, Symbols, Devotions, and Jesuits (May 1988) 

20/4 McGovern, Jesuit Education and Jesuit Spirituality (Sept. 1988) 

20/5 Barry, Jesuit Formation Today: An Invitation to Dialogue and Involvement (Nov. 1988) 

21/1 Wilson, Where Do We Belong? United States Jesuits and Their Memberships (Jan. 1989) 

21/2 Demoustier, Calvez, et al., The Disturbing Subject: The Option for the Poor (Mar. 1989) 

21/3 Soukup, Jesuit Response to the Communication Revolution (May 1989) 

22/1 Carroll, The Spiritual Exercises in Everyday Life (Jan. 1990) 

22/2 Bracken, Jesuit Spirituality from a Process Prospective (March 1990) 

22/3 Shepherd, Fire for a Weekend: An Experience of the Exercises (May 1990) 

22/4 O'Sullivan, Trust Your Feelings, but Use Your Head (Sept. 1990) 

22/5 Coleman, A Company of Critics: Jesuits and the Intellectual Life (Nov. 1990) 

23/1 Houdek, The Road Too Often Traveled (Jan. 1991) 

23/2 DiGiacomo, Ministering to the Young (March 1991) 

23/3 Begheyn and Bogart, A Bibliography on St. Ignatius's Spiritual Exercises (May 1991) 

23/4 Shelton, Reflections on the Mental Health of Jesuits (Sept. 1991) 

23/5 Toolan, "Nature Is a Heraclitean Fire" (Nov. 1991) 

24/1 Houdek, Jesuit Prayer and Jesuit Ministry: Context and Possibilities (Jan. 1992) 

24/2 Smolich, Testing the Water: Jesuits Accompanying the Poor (March 1992) 

24/3 Hassel, Jesus Christ Changing Yesterday, Today, and Forever (May 1992) 

24/4 Shelton, Toward Healthy Jesuit Community Living (Sept. 1992) 

24/5 Cook,/esK5' Parables and the Faith That Does Justice (Nov. 1992) 

25/2 Donahue, What Does the Lord Require? (March 1993)-ONCE AGAIN AVAILABLE 

25/3 Padberg, Ignatius, the Popes, and Realistic Reverence (May 1993) 

25/4 Stahel, Toward General Congregation 34 (Sept. 1993) 

25/5 Baldovin, Christian Liturgy: An Annotated Bibliography (Nov. 1993) 

26/1 Tetlow, The Most Postmodern Prayer (Jan. 1994) 

26/2 Murphy, The Many Ways of Justice (March 1994) 

26/3 Staudenmaier, To Fall in Love with the World (May 1994) 

26/4 Foley, Stepping into the River (Sept. 1994) 

26/5 Landy, Myths That Shape Us (Nov. 1994) 

27/1 Daley, "To Be More like Christ" Qan. 1995) 

27/2 Schmidt, Portraits and Landscapes (March 1995) 

27/3 Stockhausen, I'd Love to, but I Don't Have the Time (May 1995) 

27/4 Anderson, Jesuits in Jail, Ignatius to the Present (Sept. 1995) 

27/5 Shelton, Friendship in Jesuit Life (Nov. 1995) 

28/1 Begheyn, Bibliography on the History of the Jesuits (Jan. 1996) 

28/2 Veale, Saint Ignatius Speaks about "Ignatian Prayer" (March 1996) 

28/3 Clooney, In Ten Thousand Places, in Every Blade of Grass (May 1996) 

28/4 Starkloff, "As Different As Night and Day" (Sept. 1996) 

28/5 Beckett, Listening to Our History (Nov. 1996) 

29/1 Hamm, Preaching Biblical Justice (Jan. 1997) 

29/2 Padberg, The Three Forgotten Founders (March 1997) 

29/3 Byrne, Jesuits and Parish Ministry (May 1997) 

29/4 Keenan, Are Informationes Ethical? (Sept. 1997) 

29/5 Ferlita, The Road to Bethlehem-Is It Level or Winding? (Nov. 1997) 

30/1 Shore, The Vita Christi ofLudolph of Saxony and Its Influence on the Spiritual Exercises of 

Ignatius of Loyola (Jan. 1998) 

30/2 Starkloff, "I'm No Theologian, but . . . (or So . . . )?" (March 1998) 

30/3 Torrens, The Word That Clamors (May 1998) 

30/4 Petrik, "Being Sent" (Sept. 1998) 

30/5 Jackson, "One and the Same Vocation" (Nov. 1998) 

31/1 Clifford, Scripture and the Exercises (Jan. 1999) 

31/2 Toohig, Physics Research, a Search for God (March 1999) 

31/3 Fagin, Fidelity in the Church— Then and Now (May 1999) 

31/4 Schineller, Pilgrim Journey of Ignatius (Sept. 1999) 

31/5 Fullam, Juana, S.J: Status of Women in the Society (Nov. 1999) 

32/1 Langan, The Good of Obedience in a Culture of Autonomy (Jan. 2000) 

32/2 Blake, Listen with Your Eyes (March 2000) 

32/3 Shelton, When a Jesuit Counsels Others (May 2000) 

32/4 Barry, Past, Present, and Future (Sept. 2000) 



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